pity. Opposite him was the door of
the first antechamber, called the Grand Couvert, where had posted
Varicourt, and within it some dozen others. There Varicourt stood,
handsome and elegantly uniformed, at that beautiful door in that fine
hall. Yet behind all this elegance what misery! The Canadian could not
suppress the vision of the tortured Queen starting out of her sleep in
her chamber a few paces away. This suffering woman was in his charge--he
must be loyal to her and lay down his life before hers should be taken.
Well, he had faced death before--it had not yet quite come to that; but
he would be loyal and true. Oh, if he could only cross for a few minutes
to the Noailles mansion and have a word with Cyrene. Was she in danger
too? His heart ached with anxiety.

So the hours of the night passed.

A little before six, while he was resting on a bench and all seemed
quiet, he suddenly heard shouting. He was startled, for it was much
nearer than the Place d'Armes. Yes, there was no doubt of it; he heard a
pistol-shot close by, and at the same time he sprang to his feet. There
was a simultaneous stir in the Great Hall of the Guards, and de
Varicourt, at the entrance to the Queen's antechamber, rapidly drew his
sword. So did du Repaire, sentinel at the door to the Marble Staircase.

Germain ordered Miomandre de Ste. Marie, another faithful Guardsman, who
was posted at the door of the Great Hall, to go down the Marble
Staircase and bring back a report of the trouble.

It afterwards appeared that the two of Lafayette's Paris militiamen
posted at the outer gateway had betrayed their trust and let in the mob
of viragoes and armed brigands who pressed for admittance early in the
morning. Now commenced a season of terror in the Palace.

No sooner had Miomandre reached the head of the staircase, and Lecour
looked after him out of the open door, than they both saw the court
below alive with a lashing ocean of pikes and furious faces.

The two Swiss sentinels who kept the foot of the staircase had managed
to check the rush, and for a moment the brigands checked themselves to
get each a hack at an object they had thrown down. Lecour saw instantly
that this object was a man--a Bodyguard--who, as with a tremendous
effort he threw off his assailants and stood up, the streams of blood
pouring over his face, he recognised as poor Des Huttes. Germain's first
impulse was to bound down the steps to his rescue--but discipline did
its