s, believed in _Equality_, and was the man of the
people--_Philippe Egalite_! His young son Louis Philippe perhaps
listened with wonder to the sounds of strange revelry and the wild
shouts which greeted the eloquence of Camille Desmoulins and of Marat.

At last a rumor reached the Palais Royal, and from there ran through
the streets like an electric current, that the king's soldiers were
marching upon the Assembly to disperse it. Mad with wine and
excitement, a common impulse seized the entire populace, to destroy the
Bastille, that old stronghold of despotism, that symbol of royal
tyranny. This prison-fortress, with its eight great round towers, and
moat eighty-three feet wide, had stood since 1371, and represented more
tragic human experiences than any structure in France. In an hour the
doors were burst open, and before the sun went down the heads of the
governor and his officials were being carried on pikes through the
streets of Paris. The horrible drama had opened. The tiger in the
slums had tasted blood, and would want it again.

Thus far it was only an insurgent mob, committing violence, and the
National Assembly at once created a body of militia, under the
direction of Lafayette, for the protection of Paris.

When the news of the fall of the Bastille reached Versailles, the king,
still failing to realize the gravity of the situation, exclaimed, "Then
it is a revolt!" "Sire," said the Duke de Liancourt, "it is a
Revolution!"

The king found himself deserted. His terrified nobles almost in a body
were fleeing from the kingdom. Bewildered, not knowing what to do, or
what not to do, and desiring to assure the people that he was their
friend, he appeared before the National Assembly and made the last
sacrifice--accepted the Tricolor; adopted the livery of the
revolutionary party! The act was received with immense enthusiasm, and
the outlook became more reassuring.

Then the garrison at the palace was reenforced by a regiment from the
country, and a dinner was given to welcome the new officers. The king
and queen were urged to enter the room for a few moments, simply as an
act of courtesy. Marie Antoinette most reluctantly consented to pass
through the banqueting-hall. The officers, when they saw the beautiful
daughter of Maria Theresa, sprang to their feet, and, flushed with
wine, and in a transport of enthusiasm, committed a fatal act.
Throwing their tricolors under the table, they drank to the to