No Frenchman can quit his _arrondissement_ unprovided with a
passport; and the route he intends to take, and the distance he designs
to travel, must also be specified. A week or two ago the prefect of the
police himself was escorted back to Caen, between a couple of
gens-d'armes, because he inadvertently paid a visit to a neighboring
bathing-place without his passport in his pocket. This is a current
story here: I cannot vouch for its authenticity; however it is certain,
that since the discovery of the late plot contrived by the ultras, a
plot whose existence is generally disbelieved, the French police is more
than usually upon the alert.
When I presented myself at the Hotel de Ville, to redeem my promise, a
recent decree was pointed out to me, containing a variety of regulations
which shew extraordinary uneasiness on the part of the government, and
which would seem to indicate that they are in possession of intelligence
respecting projects, that threaten the public tranquillity[70]. To judge
from all official proceedings, it seems as if we were walking upon a
smothered volcano, and yet we are told by every body that there is not
the slightest room for apprehension of any kind.
This interruption has thrown me out of the regular course of my
narration.
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