Le Temps des Cerises by Zillah Bethel

always, always waited for the men… and her eyes blazed with the fiery liquid and the thoughts his words provoked in her.
    â€˜This government would wait till doomsday and then say the course of events had been inevitable. The course of events is NOT inevitable. The course of events is NEVER inevitable. We are masters of our own destinies.’
    Thunderous applause. Bravos. Hear Hears.
    Alphonse held up his hand. ‘We have come so far. We have a Republic, it is true.’
    Cries of vive la République .
    â€˜The monarchy has gone. The Tuileries is now the Property of the People. We have come so far. We have rid this country of a noxious weed, a regime based on corruption and greed. Luxury built on rottenness.’
    â€˜The Duc de Morny’s hair all fell out!’ an old gentleman in a waistcoat shouted out. ‘That’s a sure sign of the pox!’
    There was wild cheering at that though nobody quite knew what they were cheering for.
    â€˜Indeed it is,’ smiled Alphonse. ‘A sure sign of the profligacy of the rich who take their pleasures with YOUR gold. A sure sign of the oppression of the poor. A luxury built on YOUR sweat, YOUR toil, YOUR blood. Do you want to have a decent share in your own wages?’
    â€˜ YES .’
    â€˜Then you must stop waiting and start acting. This government – this government would make a deal with the Prussians and restore the monarchy. WHY? Because most of its members served under it. Nepotism, sinecures, flatterers down to the lowliest most obsequious boot licker. And that is why the members of this government are pussyfooting round Prussia like a bunch of cats who’ve grown fat in their mistresses’ laps!’
    â€˜Mistresses,’ shouted the old gentleman in the waistcoat again. ‘I’ve counted them up. He’s had more than has ever been recorded in the annals of history ever. Sixty-six to be precise and those are the ones accounted for. Who knows what goes on in his loge intime . A few one-night wonders I shouldn’t wonder!’
    â€˜We are no longer talking about the Emperor,’ the old woman behind remarked a little tartly. ‘We are on to the Republic now.’
    â€˜Republic, yes,’ agreed Alphonse. ‘But we might as well call it the Emperor for all the difference it makes. We’ve come so far but we must take the next step. Do you want to be masters of your own fate?’
    â€˜ Yes !’
    â€˜Then wake up! It’s a new day! Wake up!’
    Laurie smiled to hear their old wake-up call. The one they had used to wake the factory workers and fruiterers, market traders and fancy hat-box makers in the early hours of the morning.
    â€˜We must stop waiting and start acting. This day. This moment. It is time to take the next step. We must form an assembly and elect an executive body…’
    â€˜ Hear Hear .’ A burst of feeble applause.
    Alphonse stopped, as if he felt he’d gone too far and his voice changed, becoming softer, more compassionate, on intimate terms with his listeners. ‘We live in changing times. Strange and puzzling times. But that does not mean that we need to be afraid. It is only when we wait that we are afraid. It is only when we let others take charge of our own destinies that we need to be afraid.’
    The audience was hushed, hanging on to his every word. Even the drunk and disorderly Guardsmen were standing to attention in the choristers’ stalls and the ragamuffins in the lonely back pews were swaying but still awake.
    Alphonse’s voice changed again. ‘Alright. Enough,’ he almost barked as if he had grown tired of his own high-flown words. ‘While the government sings the praises of Trochu’s plan yet never puts it into action; while the men in white coats at the academy work on smallpox germs to send to the Prussians; and while the great minds of the university debate the provisioning of besieged towns in