ack began. It
was directed by the _Gardes Francaises_, who had been the first to
mutiny, and had been disbanded, and were now the backbone of the
people's army. The siege consisted in efforts to lower the drawbridge.
After several hours the massive walls were unshaken, and the place was
as safe as before the first discharge. But the defenders knew that
they were lost. Besenval was not the man to rescue them by fighting
his way through several miles of streets. They were not provisioned,
and the men urged the governor to make terms before he was compelled.
They had brought down above a hundred of their assailants, without
losing a man. But it was plain that the loss neither of a hundred nor
of a thousand would affect the stern determination of the crowd,
whilst it might increase their fury. Delauney, in his despair, seized
a match, and wanted to fire the magazine. His men remonstrated and
spoke of the dreadful devastation that must follow the explosion. The
man who stayed the hand of the despairing commander, and whose name
was Becard, deserved a better fate than he met that day, for he was
one of the four or five that were butchered. The men beat a parley,
hoisted the white flag, and obtained, on the honour of a French
officer, a verbal promise of safety.

Then the victors came pouring over the bridge, triumphant over a
handful of Swiss and invalids--triumphant too over thirteen centuries
of monarchy and the longest line of kings. Those who had served in
the regular army took charge of as many prisoners as they could
rescue, carried them to their quarters, and gave them their own beds
to sleep in. The officers who had conducted the unreal attack, and
received the piteous surrender, brought the governor to the Hotel de
Ville, fighting their way through a murderous crowd. For it was long
believed that Delauney had admitted the people into the first court,
and then had perfidiously shot them down. In his struggles he hurt a
bystander, who chanced to be a cook. The man, prompted, it seems, less
by animosity than by the pride of professional skill, drew a knife and
cut off his head. Flesselles, the chief of the old municipality,
appointed by the Crown, was shot soon after, under suspicion of having
encouraged Delauney to resist.

Dr. Rigby, an Englishman who was at the Palais Royal, has described
what he saw. First came an enormous multitude bearing aloft the keys
of the conquered citadel, with the inscription, "The Bastil