ng;
pointing towards all the thirty-two azimuths at once, as the
magnet-needle does when thunderstorm is in the air! If the Insurrection
come? If it come, and fail? Alas, in that case, may not black Courtiers,
with blunderbusses, red Swiss with bayonets rush over, flushed with
victory, and ask us: Thou undefinable, waterlogged, self-distractive,
self-destructive Legislative, what dost thou here unsunk?--Or figure
the poor National Guards, bivouacking 'in temporary tents' there; or
standing ranked, shifting from leg to leg, all through the weary night;
New tricolor Municipals ordering one thing, old Mandat Captains ordering
another! Procureur Manuel has ordered the cannons to be withdrawn from
the Pont Neuf; none ventured to disobey him. It seemed certain, then,
the old Staff so long doomed has finally been dissolved, in these
hours; and Mandat is not our Commandant now, but Santerre? Yes, friends:
Santerre henceforth,--surely Mandat no more! The Squadrons that were to
charge see nothing certain, except that they are cold, hungry, worn down
with watching; that it were sad to slay French brothers; sadder to
be slain by them. Without the Tuileries Circuit, and within it, sour
uncertain humour sways these men: only the red Swiss stand steadfast.
Them their officers refresh now with a slight wetting of brandy; wherein
the Nationals, too far gone for brandy, refuse to participate.

King Louis meanwhile had laid him down for a little sleep: his wig when
he reappeared had lost the powder on one side. (Roederer, ubi supra.)
Old Marshal Maille and the gentlemen in black rise always in spirits,
as the Insurrection does not rise: there goes a witty saying now, "Le
tocsin ne rend pas." The tocsin, like a dry milk-cow, does not yield.
For the rest, could one not proclaim Martial Law? Not easily; for
now, it seems, Mayor Petion is gone. On the other hand, our Interim
Commandant, poor Mandat being off, 'to the Hotel-de-Ville,' complains
that so many Courtiers in black encumber the service, are an eyesorrow
to the National Guards. To which her Majesty answers with emphasis, That
they will obey all, will suffer all, that they are sure men these.

And so the yellow lamplight dies out in the gray of morning, in the
King's Palace, over such a scene. Scene of jostling, elbowing, of
confusion, and indeed conclusion, for the thing is about to end.
Roederer and spectral Ministers jostle in the press; consult, in side
cabinets, with one or with