The first cry of Madame Robert was—“’Tis on the petitioners they would fire! Let us save the petition!” Then addressing herself to me, she said, “Help me, monsieur—help me!”
It was no longer a question of signing; every one precipitated himself by the only side of the altar which had not been fired upon—that is to say, the side facing the Military College, and which was protected by the battalions of the Faubourg St. Antoine and Marais. Both the petition and the sheets, covered with signatures, were seen to fly before the wind.
Madame Robert took possession of the petition, whilst her husband and I collected about a hundred sheets of signatures.
We then descended by the west side of the altar.
Around us, seven or eight persons had been killed or wounded.
A hundred and fifty, at least, fell before this first discharge.
In descending this immense staircase, I lost Robert and his wife. The National Guards of the Faubourg St. Antoine and Marais cried, “Come with us—we will defend you!”
I rushed to their sides; the dragoons set out in pursuit of us; but the battalion of the Marais opened their ranks to us, and prepared to receive them with the bayonet. An aide-de-camp came up, and ordered this battalion to march forward, and make a junction with the other troops. The aide-de-camp was killed. None obeyed this order but the paid guards.
The battalion, or rather, the two battalions, of National Guards, formed themselves into two columns, sent out scouts, so as to protect any fugitives who might come and ask for shelter in their ranks, and marched from the Champ de Mars, leaving this horrible butchery to be completed without their assistance.
