"
he added winking. "It is an outrage on the nation. We must go to
Versailles. We must bring the Big Hog into our bosoms, away from the Bad
Hogs. Do you see?"

"I am in it," cried Hache.

"An incomparable scheme," said the Admiral. "Brave Greencaps, don't you
see before you all the swag in the great chateau of Versailles? My God!
it is a pretty scheme--a scheme worthy of a Galley-on-Land."

Even Gougeon seemed to be waked up, and fixed his greedy black eyes on
Motte.

"Citizens," the Admiral continued, addressing Wife Gougeon. "This is
better begun by the women. This morning you will go the Fish-market and
stir the fishwomen up. You must learn the lingo of patriotess. Scream
hard that 'The nation is in danger!' 'Down with the enemies of the
republic!' Talk of 'the excellent citizen,' 'the true patriots,' 'the
good _sans-culottes_.' Be 'filled with sacred vigour' against 'the vile
aristocrats.' We 'work for liberty,' we 'bear the nation in our hearts,'
and 'fulfil a civic duty.' 'Against traitors, perpetual distrust is the
weapon of good citizens,' and 'away with the prejudices of feudalism!'
You can pick up carts-full of the lingo at the Palais Royal."

"I don't understand that bosh," blurted Hache.

"You learn it in two instants, Hache."

"Wait till I tell you another thing, Admiral," Motte interposed. "There
are now twenty thousand ragmen from the provinces encamped on the hills
of Montmartre, fit for everything good. I have been through them, and
when a St. Marcellese holds his nose, you may fancy. Man never saw such
a choice crowd of breechesless. Get _them_ started and go to the women
to-morrow."

"To-morrow, then, let it be. The cries are to be 'Bread' and 'The King
to Paris,' the fishwomen to lead; the Big Bench sign to be the red wool
of '_our Friend Orleans_'; then sack the bakers; then the Hotel de
Ville; then the chateau of Versailles; and death to every black or white
cockade."

CHAPTER XLVII

THE DEFENCE OF THE BODYGUARD

Word passed about at the stately tea _a l'Anglaise_ of the Princess de
Poix that there was danger at the Palace.

"Germain, my knight," whispered Cyrene at the harpsichord, the bright
tears in her eyes, "I must not keep you now. Go to the Queen. It is for
times of peril that descendants of chivalry were born."

Tenderly kissing her hand and saying adieu, Lecour drove to the Palace
and reported for service.

The great Hall of the Guards in the centre of the Palace