a nation numbering thirty-five millions.

The more radical party, perhaps equal in number, and no less
tumultuous, composed also of those of the stoutest muscle and most
determined will, who could elbow their way through the throng,
gathered in the great hall of the Hotel de Ville, proclaimed an
antagonistic provisional government, more in accordance with their
views. Their list consisted of Marrast, Flocon, Louis Blanc, and
Albert. The danger of a conflict, leading to hopeless anarchy, was
imminent, as the partisans of each should rally around its own
choice.

The first Provisional Government, accordingly, immediately repaired
to the Hotel de Ville, followed by a tumultuous crowd which no man
could number. The leaders of the two parties soon met upon the stairs
of the Hotel de Ville, and a violent altercation ensued, which came
near to blows. The Place de Greve, in front of the hotel, was like a
storm-tossed ocean of agitated men, "a living sea, madly heaving and
tossing about beneath the tempest of revolution."

Both parties were terrified by the menacing aspect of affairs. A
compromise was hurriedly agreed to by adding to the six chosen at the
Chamber of Deputies six more, chosen from the party at the Hotel de
Ville. Lamartine, from the head of the stairs, read off the list to
the masses surging below.

In the mean time, the Duchess of Orleans, having escaped from the
Chamber of Deputies, and surrounded by friends who were ready to
sacrifice their own lives in her defense, was with difficulty rescued
from the crowd. Prominent among her protectors was M. de Morny. As
the duchess was veiled, her little party was soon lost in the heaving
masses, and unrecognized. The terrors of the hour caused fugitives to
be struggling wildly through the throng in all directions. The
pressure was so great and so resistless that the duchess was torn
from the side of her brother, the Duke de Nemours, and from both of
her children. A moment after the separation, as the mother, frantic
with terror, was groping around in search of her sons, a brutal
wretch of gigantic stature recognized the Count de Paris, and,
seizing him by the throat, endeavored to strangle him. One of the
National Guard who chanced to be near rescued the child, and
succeeded in placing him in the hands of his mother. But the younger
child, the Duke de Chartres, could nowhere be found. In vain the
distracted mother called aloud for her child. The close-packed thron