r; this is our post; we ought to die
here!" and they were killed at the door of their master's chamber.

M. Dieu died in the same way on the threshold of the Queen's bedroom.
A certain number of nobles who had not followed the King to the
Assembly succeeded in escaping the blows of the assassins. Passing
through the suite of large apartments towards the Louvre Gallery, they
rejoined there some soldiers detailed to guard an opening contrived in
the flooring, so as to prevent the assailants from entering by that
way. They crossed this opening on boards, and reached the extremity of
the gallery unhindered; then, going down the staircase of Catharine de
Medici, they managed to gain the streets near the Louvre. These may
have been saved. But woe to all men, no matter what their conditions,
who remained in the Tuileries! Domestic servants, ushers, laborers,
every soul was put to death. They killed even the dying, even the
surgeons who were caring for the wounded. It is Barbaroux himself who
describes the murderers as "cowardly fugitives during the action,
assassins after the victory, butchers {323} of dead bodies which they
stabbed with their swords so as to give themselves the honors of the
combat. In the apartments, on roofs, and in cellars, they massacred
the Swiss, armed or disarmed, the chevaliers, soldiers, and all who
peopled the chateau.... Our devotion was of no avail," says Barbaroux
again; "we were speaking to men who no longer recognized us."

And the women, what was their fate? When the firing began, the Queen's
ladies and the Princesses descended to Marie Antoinette's apartments on
the ground-floor. They closed the shutters, hoping to incur less
danger, and lighted a candle so as not to be in total darkness. Then
Mademoiselle Pauline de Tourzel exclaimed: "Let us light all the
candles in the chandelier, the sconces, and the torches; if the
brigands force open the door, the astonishment so many lights will
cause them may delay the first blow and give us time to speak." The
ladies set to work. When the invaders broke in, sabre in hand, the
numberless lights, which were repeated also in the mirrors, made such a
contrast with the daylight they had just left, that for a moment they
remained stupefied. And yet, the Princess de Tarente, Madame de La
Roche-Aymon, Mademoiselle de Tourzel, Madame de Ginestons, and all the
other ladies were about to perish when a man with a long beard made his
appearance, c