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The ladies of the aristocracy, and among them Countess Clena, Viscountess Olive, and Princess des Boscenos, occupied reserved seats. In the immense building and in the square outside were gathered twenty thousand clergy of all sorts, as well as thirty thousand of the laity. After the expiatory and propitiatory ceremony the Reverend Father Douillard ascended the pulpit.
Here were the heads of the Anti-Pyrotist Association, among whom might be seen Prince des Boscenos, Count Clena, Viscount Olive, and M. de La Trumelle; here crowded the Reverend Father Agaric and the teachers of St. Mael College with their pupils; here the monk Douillard and General Caraguel, embracing each other, formed a sublime group.
Among these latter, in the darkness, his lofty figure rising above the moving crowd, his broad shoulders and robust body noticeable among the trampled limbs and crushed sides of the rest, stood the Prince des Boscenos, calm, immovable, and placid. Serenely and indulgently he waited.
The devoted band of Dracophils, led by Prince des Boscenos, struck up the august canticle: Vive Crucho, Vaillant et sage, Plein de courage Des le berceau! Behind the wall silence alone replied. This silence and the absence of guards encouraged and at the same time frightened the crowd. Suddenly a formidable voice cried out: "Attack!"
M. de La Trumelle then perceived that, misled by an undeserved resemblance, he had mistaken for Colomban, M. Bazile, a retired lawyer, the secretary of the Anti-pyrotist Association, and an ardent and generous patriot. Prince des Boscenos was one of those antique souls who never bend. However, he knew how to recognise his faults.
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