uded in darkness
and sorrow. Clouds of mist were sweeping through the chill air, and a
few feeble lamps glimmered along the narrow avenues and gloomy
passages, which were darkened by the approach of a winter's night.
Armed soldiers surrounded the building. Heavy pieces of artillery
faced every approach. Cannoneers, with lighted matches, stood at their
side, ready to scatter a storm of grape-shot upon every foe. A mob of
countless thousands were surging to and fro through all the
neighboring streets. The deep, dull murmurings of the multitude
swelled in unison with the sighings of the storm rising upon the
somber night. It was with no little difficulty that the deputies could
force their way through the ocean of human beings surrounding the
Assembly. The coarse garb, the angry features, the harsh voices, the
fierce and significant gestures, proclaimed too clearly that the mob
had determined to have the life of the king, and that, unless the
deputies should vote his death, both king and deputies should perish
together. As each deputy threaded his way through the thronging
masses, he heard, in threatening tones, muttered into his ear deep and
emphatic, "_His death or thine!_"

Persons who were familiar with the faces of all the members were
stationed at particular points, and called out aloud to the multitude
the names of the deputies as they elbowed their way through the
surging multitudes. At the names of Danton, Marat, Robespierre, the
ranks opened to make way for these idols of the populace, and shouts
of the most enthusiastic greeting fell upon their ears. When the names
of Vergniaud, Brissot, and others of the leading Girondists were
mentioned, clinched fists, brandished daggers, and angry menaces
declared that those who refused to obey the wishes of the people
should encounter dire revenge. The very sentinels placed to guard the
deputies encouraged the mob to insult and violence. The lobbies were
filled with the most sanguinary ruffians of Paris. The interior of the
hall was dimly lighted. A chandelier, suspended from the center of
the ceiling, illuminated certain portions of the room, while the more
distant parts remained in deep obscurity. That all might act under the
full sense of their responsibility to the mob, Robespierre had
proposed and carried the vote that the silent form of ballot should be
rejected, and that each deputy, in his turn, should ascend the
tribune, and, with a distinct voice, announce his se