volunteers threw themselves upon the bugler,
dragged his instrument from his hands, and broke it to pieces. Then
several shots were fired by the militia, the dragoons returned them, and
a regular battle began. The lieutenant soon saw that this was no mere
street row, but a deliberate rising planned beforehand, and realising
that very serious consequences were likely to ensue, he sent a dragoon
to the town hall by a back way to give notice to the authorities.

M. de Saint-Pons, major of the Nimes legion, hearing some noise outside,
opened his window, and found the whole city in a tumult: people were
running in every direction, and shouting as they ran that the dragoons
were being killed at the palace. The major rushed out into the streets
at once, gathered together a dozen to fifteen patriotic citizens without
weapons, and hurried to the town hall: There he found two officials
of the town, and begged them to go at once to the place de l'Eveche,
escorted by the first company, which was on guard at the town hall. They
agreed, and set off. On the way several shots were fired at them, but no
one was hit. When they arrived at the square, the cebets fired a volley
at them with the same negative result. Up the three principal streets
which led to the palace numerous red-tufts were hurrying; the first
company took possession of the ends of the streets, and being fired at
returned the fire, repulsing the assailants and clearing the square,
with the loss of one of their men, while several of the retreating
cebets were wounded.

While this struggle was going on at the palace, the spirit of murder
broke loose in the town.

At the gate of the Madeleine, M. de Jalabert's house was broken into by
the red-tufts; the unfortunate old man came out to meet them and asked
what they wanted. "Your life and the lives of all the other dogs of
Protestants!" was the reply. Whereupon he was seized and dragged through
the streets, fifteen insurgents hacking at him with their swords.

At last he managed to escape from their hands, but died two days later
of his wounds.

Another old man named Astruc, who was bowed beneath the weight of
seventy-two years and whose white hair covered his shoulders, was met
as he was on his way to the gate of Carmes. Being recognised as a
Protestant, he received five wounds from some of the famous pitchforks
belonging to the company of Froment. He fell, but the assassins picked
him up, and throwing him into the moa