furiated men, mad with revenge, with love of mischief,
love of plunder! Rascality has slipped its muzzle; and now bays,
three-throated, like the Dog of Erebus. Fourteen Bodyguards are wounded;
two massacred, and as we saw, beheaded; Jourdan asking, "Was it worth
while to come so far for two?" Hapless Deshuttes and Varigny! Their
fate surely was sad. Whirled down so suddenly to the abyss; as men are,
suddenly, by the wide thunder of the Mountain Avalanche, awakened not
by them, awakened far off by others! When the Chateau Clock last struck,
they two were pacing languid, with poised musketoon; anxious mainly
that the next hour would strike. It has struck; to them inaudible. Their
trunks lie mangled: their heads parade, 'on pikes twelve feet long,'
through the streets of Versailles; and shall, about noon reach the
Barriers of Paris,--a too ghastly contradiction to the large comfortable
Placards that have been posted there!

The other captive Bodyguard is still circling the corpse of Jerome, amid
Indian war-whooping; bloody Tilebeard, with tucked sleeves, brandishing
his bloody axe; when Gondran and the Grenadiers come in sight.
"Comrades, will you see a man massacred in cold blood?"--"Off,
butchers!" answer they; and the poor Bodyguard is free. Busy runs
Gondran, busy run Guards and Captains; scouring at all corridors;
dispersing Rascality and Robbery; sweeping the Palace clear. The mangled
carnage is removed; Jerome's body to the Townhall, for inquest: the fire
of Insurrection gets damped, more and more, into measurable, manageable
heat.

Transcendent things of all sorts, as in the general outburst of
multitudinous Passion, are huddled together; the ludicrous, nay the
ridiculous, with the horrible. Far over the billowy sea of heads, may be
seen Rascality, caprioling on horses from the Royal Stud. The Spoilers
these; for Patriotism is always infected so, with a proportion of mere
thieves and scoundrels. Gondran snatched their prey from them in the
Chateau; whereupon they hurried to the Stables, and took horse there.
But the generous Diomedes' steeds, according to Weber, disdained such
scoundrel-burden; and, flinging up their royal heels, did soon project
most of it, in parabolic curves, to a distance, amid peals of laughter:
and were caught. Mounted National Guards secured the rest.

Now too is witnessed the touching last-flicker of Etiquette; which
sinks not here, in the Cimmerian World-wreckage, without a sign, as
the