FRANCE: Cool, Calm, Collected

Flushed by a good, stiff sea breeze and not a little gratified by the great French naval review he had just witnessed, Premier Herriot of France stepped off a French torpedo boat at Marseille. A luxurious limousine awaited him. But no, he would make the journey à pied; limousines were for the capitalists, feet for the honest working men; so off went Edouard, his shoes squeaking under the weight of his corpulence. Great crowds assembled. The Premier smiled. Great crowds followed. The Premier was delighted. Many times he stopped, shook hands, conversed, kissed, parted with common people and sailors. Many times the people cheered; and many times the Premier raised his hat. Then, from a side alley, was heard a noise like the trumpetings of mad elephants. Two hundred Communists, armed to the eyebrows with sticks, swooped upon the Premier, uttering the terrible cry of "Amnestie!"* M. Herriot turned pale. The Communists surrounded him, waved their sticks, "threatened" him. Several times he was all but hit; yet he remained proverbially cool, calm. Police arrived in time to prevent the Premier from being damaged. The Communists were routed. The Premier was pushed into an automobile, driven to the station where he caught a train for Paris.