detachment of the line was sent to guard the palace. The
troops and the populace mingled together, talking and laughing. As
the multitude pressed the troops, they opened their ranks and let the
living torrent pass through, amidst loud cheers. Several armorers'
shops were broken open, and it was manifest that vigorous
preparations were going on in anticipation of the struggle of the
succeeding day. Still the king, with an infatuation which is
inexplicable, took no measures to add to the military strength at the
disposal of General Marmont. Thus passed the day of the 27th. It
seems that at night the king became somewhat alarmed, for at eleven
o'clock he issued an ordinance from his retreat at St. Cloud
declaring Paris to be in a state of siege.

During all the hours of the night of the 27th there reigned the calm
which precedes the storm. The leaders of the Liberal party--among
whom were to be found many of the most intelligent men, the wisest
statesmen, and the most accomplished generals in France--had fully
decided to submit their cause to the arbitrament of battle. Calm
deliberation, organization, carefully matured plans, were requisite
to meet the marshalled forces of the monarchy. It was no longer a
mere street insurrection, but a kingdom was to be revolutionized.
Immediately a new and tremendous impulse was secretly given to the
movement. Committees were busy. Agents were active, invested with
authority which the populace instinctively recognized without
inquiring into the source from which it emanated.

With the early light of the next morning--the 28th--the result of the
operations of the night was manifest. In the vicinity of the Place of
the Bastile there is a portion of the city densely populated, called
the Faubourg St. Antoine. It is inhabited by a class in a humble
condition of life, who have ever taken a very prominent part in all
the insurrections which have agitated Paris. Reckless of their own
lives as well as of the lives of others, they have ever been the most
desperate and the most dreaded fighters in every conflict in the
streets.

With the morning dawn the faubourg seemed to be swarming. Guided by
some mysterious but common impulse, a huge and disorderly mass--ever
increasing--of maddened men and equally maddened women, armed with
swords, muskets, pickaxes, and every other conceivable weapon of
offense or defense, surged along through the Rue St. Denis and along
the crowded boulevards towards t