the superior council, registering them, or otherwise promulgating them in a public manner, and, as such, ordering him out of the colony. The paper was signed by over five hundred names. It was printed by the public printer, on the order of Foucaut, and distributed throughout the parishes. The superior council took it under consideration, and ended in rendering the decree prayed for, ordering Ulloa to produce his authorities before the civil tribunal of the colony, or to take his departure from it, within a month. To such a man, and to such a dignitary, there was no alternative; he prepared for the immediate departure of himself and household.
Aubry, whose ideas of independence lay strictly within the limits of military subordination, did what he could at first to prevent, then to mitigate, what he considered an outrageous breach of discipline. He expostulated with the citizens, enlightened them about the inviolate majesty of kings, warned them of retributive consequences. In vain. The citizens would not, or could not, understand him. To all of his representations they had a legal answer, and they stood firm in their position, their feet planted on their incontestable theory of the supremacy in the colony of the civil tribunal. Aubry then did what he could to throw a semblance of dignity around the expulsion. At the head of his soldiers he escorted Ulloa and his household to the levee, saluted his embarkation, and stationed sentries to guard his ship.
That night there was a wedding feast in one of the wealthiest houses of the city. Banqueting and dancing had filled the hours and prolonged the revels, and day was about to break before the last of the guests stepped
