d bodies into pieces; devoured the
still bleeding fragments, or deliberately lighted fire and cooked them;
or, hoisting the severed limbs on pikes, carried them in fiendish triumph
through the streets.

And while these horrors were going on in the palace, the tumult in the
Assembly was scarcely less furious. The majority of the members--all,
indeed, except the Girondins and Jacobins, who were secure in their
alliance with the ringleaders--were panic-stricken. Many fled, but the
rest sat still, and in terrified helplessness voted whatever resolutions
the fiercest of the king's enemies chose to propose. It was an ominous
preliminary to their deliberations that they admitted a deputation from
the commissioners of the sections into the hall, where Guadet, to whom
Vergniaud had surrendered the president's chair, thanked them for their
zeal, and assured them that the Assembly regarded them as virtuous
citizens only anxious for the restoration of peace and order. They were
even formally recognized as the Municipal Council; and then, on the motion
of Vergniaud, the Assembly passed a series of resolutions, ordering the
suspension of Louis from all authority; his confinement in the Luxembourg
Palace; the dismissal and impeachment of his ministers; the re-appointment
of Roland and those of his colleagues whom he had dismissed, and the
immediate election of a National Convention. A large pecuniary reward was
even voted for the Marseillese, and for similar gangs from one or two
other departments which had been brought up to Paris to take a part in the
insurrection.

Yet so deeply seated were hope and confidence in the queen's heart, so
sanguine was her trust that out of the mutual enmity of the populace and
the Assembly safety would still be wrought for the king and the monarchy,
that even while the din of battle was raging outside the hall, and inside
deputy after deputy was rising to heap insults on the king and on herself,
or to second Vergniaud's resolutions for his formal degradation, she could
still believe that the tide was about to turn in her favor. While the
uproar was at its height she turned to D'Hervilly, who still kept his
post, faithful and fearless, at his master's side. "Well, M. d'Hervilly,"
said she, with an air, as M. Bertrand, who tells the story, describes it,
of the most perfect security, "did we not do well not to leave Paris?" "I
pray God," said the brave noble, "that your majesty may be able to ask me
the