Pitou opened the book and on the last page he saw the entry:
"This day, ninth of July, 1789, enters Dr. Gilbert, a most dangerous writer of public matters and philosophy: keep in solitary confinement."
He carried the register to the physician. It was of course what he sought. Looking whence the order emanated, he exclaimed:
"The warrant to arrest me signed by my friend Necker? then there must be some trick played on him."
"Necker your friend?" ejaculated the crowd, for the name had great influence over them.
"Yes, my friend, and I upheld him. I am convinced that he is ignorant of my being in prison. But I will go and find him, and——"
"He is not at Versailles," said Billet, "but at Brussels; he is exiled."
"His daughter lives in the country out by St. Ouen," suggested one of the throng, whom Gilbert thanked without seeing who it was.
"Friends," he said, "in the name of history, who will find the condemnation of tyranny in these papers, cease such devastation, I entreat you. Demolish the Bastile, stone by stone, till not a trace remains, but respect documents and books, for the light of the future is in them."
The multitude had scarce heard the rebuke than its high intelligence gauged he was correct.