rain and night brought a certain cessation, and with them
hopes rose. The troops were withdrawn at eight. The main portion of the
Bodyguard were sent to Rambouillet in the vicinity, as they seemed to
excite antagonism among some companies of the National Guard or militia
of Versailles. About twelve in the evening, General Lafayette, of
American fame, came up at the head of the militia of Paris and took
command of the external defences of the chateau.

The mob were still, however, permitted to camp out on the Place d'Armes.

"What are they doing now?" a tired officer of the Bodyguards asked of
another, who had come in and was giving his dripping cloak to one of the
King's lackeys.

"They are mostly asleep, on the Place. It is all over hillocks of rags."

"In the rain?"

"So it seems; it does not wet that sort."

"They must be hungry."

"Not at all. They have each his or her bottle of drink; besides, they
roasted and ate our comrade's horse that they shot by the light of their
bonfire. It was looking on at a cannibal's feast to see them dancing
round it, men and women."

"More so had it been an ass's carcase, perhaps."

"Say a wolf's. If there is a breed of human wolves, I have had it proved
to me to-night. The difference between these and the kind in the
Menagerie is that it is we who are within the bars."

"You need not offer the breed as a novelty; I saw plenty of them at Eaux
Tranquilles."

The speakers were Grancey and Germain. The Baron's face was full of
indignation; Lecour's of platonic contempt.

The door of the Hall of the King's Guards opened, and the sentinels
saluted for a Duke, while the Prince of Luxembourg entered. The Guards
who were awake aroused their comrades. All sprang to their arms and
saluted.

"Gentlemen," said the Prince, "you will be glad to know that his Majesty
has such trust in your faithfulness that he is sleeping as quietly as
usual."

A shout of "Vive le Roi!" arose.

The Prince withdrew. From the opposite door--that of the Hall of the
Queen, now came out Monsieur d'Aguesseau, Mayor of the Guard, who was
making the disposition of sentries.

The contingent, who were still standing, turned to him with looks of
anxiety, and Lecour, as spokesman for the rest, said respectfully--

"How sleeps the Queen?"

"Her Majesty, alas! does not sleep. She starts up continually, haunted
by the foul insults of yesterday and the immense unmerited hatred of the
people of France. What