few of the members, dreading the anarchy which might
follow the demolition of the throne, urged that the envoys might be
received, as it was still possible to come to an accommodation. But
their voices were drowned by cries from all parts of the hall, "It is
too late. We will have no more transactions with the Bourbons."

It would only bewilder the reader to attempt a narrative of the
scenes of desperation, recrimination, confusion, and dismay which
simultaneously ensued. M. de Montmart, whom the king had appointed in
place of Prince Polignac as the new President of the Council, a noble
of vast wealth, and one of the bravest of men, set out in his
shirt-sleeves, disguised as a peasant, hoping to gain access to the
Provisional Government, and, by his personal influence, to save the
monarchy. His mission was in vain. General Marmont, to spare the
useless shedding of blood, entered into a truce--some said a
capitulation--with the revolutionary forces. The Duke d'Angouleme, in
his rage, called the venerable marshal to his face a traitor. In
endeavoring to wrest from him his sword, the duke severely wounded
his own hand. General Marmont was put under arrest; but soon, by the
more considerate king, was released.

The king, with most of the royal family and court, retired to the
chateau of Trianon, at Versailles, four or five miles farther back in
the country. The Duke d'Angouleme was left in command of such troops
of the guard and of the line as could be collected, to act as
rear-guard at St. Cloud. But scarcely had Charles X. established
himself at Trianon ere the duke presented himself in the presence of
his father, with the disheartening intelligence that the troops
stationed at the bridge of St. Cloud to prevent the insurgents from
crossing the Seine, had refused to fire upon them. In consequence,
the revolutionary forces had taken possession of the chateau, and
were preparing to march upon Trianon.

The king had gathered around him at Trianon about twelve thousand
troops. Some of them were troops of the line. He knew not what
reliance could be placed in their fidelity. Alarm-couriers were
continually arriving with appalling tidings. Men, women, and
boys, inflamed with passion, and many delirious with brandy--on
foot, and in all sorts of vehicles--a motley throng of countless
thousands--were on the march to attack him. The king had not
forgotten the visit of the mob of Paris to his brother Louis XVI.
and family at Ve