countenance. Here appalling tidings met him. The exasperated populace
were tearing down and trampling under foot the conciliatory
proclamation of M. Thiers. The national troops, disgusted with the
contradictory orders which had been issued, were loud in their clamor
against the king. The National Guard was everywhere fraternizing with
the people. The frenzy of insurrection was surging through all the
thoroughfares of Paris.

The king was silent in consternation. Immediately repairing to his
chamber, he dressed himself in the uniform of the National Guard, and
returned to his cabinet, where he was joined by two of his sons, the
Duke de Nemours and the Duke de Montpensier. All night long the
dismal clang of the tocsin had summoned the fighting portion of the
population to important points of defense. Nearly all the churches
were in the hands of the insurgents. Under cover of the darkness,
barricades had been rising in many of the streets. The national
troops had retired, humiliated, to the vicinity of the Tuileries and
Palais Royal. Many of the soldiers, in their disgust, had thrown away
their muskets, while some of the officers, under similar feelings,
had broken their swords and cast them away upon the pavement.

Affairs made such rapid progress that by ten o'clock M. Thiers became
fully convinced that he had no longer influence with the people. He
accordingly resigned the ministry, and M. Odillon Barrot, a man far
more democratic in his principles, was appointed prime-minister in
his stead. The Palais Royal, the magnificent ancestral abode of the
Duke of Orleans, being left unguarded, the mob burst in, rioted
through all its princely saloons, plundering and destroying. Its
paintings, statuary, gorgeous furniture, and priceless works of art
were pierced with bayonets, slashed with sabre-strokes, thrown into
the streets, and consumed with flames. In less than half an hour the
magnificent apartments of this renowned palace presented but a
revolting spectacle of destruction and ruin.

The king, the queen, the Duchess of Orleans, and the Duke de
Montpensier, with several distinguished friends, were still in the
breakfast-room--the Gallery of Diana, in the Tuileries. The mob,
their hands filled with the plunder of the Palais Royal, were already
entering the Carrousel. Loud shouts announced their triumph to the
trembling inmates of the royal palace, and appalled them with fears
of the doom which they soon might be called