Waterloo by Erckmann-Chatrian

From that moment there was confusion everywhere, the half-pay officers shouted, "_Vive l'Empereur_. " The commandant gave orders to arrest them, but the battalion did the same thing, and the gendarmes seemed to be deaf. Nobody was at work; the tax-gatherers and overseers, the mayor and his counsellors, grew gray with uncertainty, not knowing on which foot they should dance. Nobody dared to come out for Bonaparte, or for Louis XVIII., except the slaters and masons and knife-grinders, who could not lose their offices and who wished for nothing better than to see others in their places. With their hatchets stuck in their leather belts and a bag of chips on their shoulders, they did not hesitate to shout, "Down with the emigres," they laughed at the troubles, which increased visibly.

One day the gazette said, the usurper is at Grenoble, the next he is at Lyons, the next at Macon, and the next at Auxerre, and so on. Father Goulden was in good-humor as he read the news at night, and he would say: