"My son—save my son!"
They touched the portals of the Assembly, but the mob doubled their efforts for fear their prey would escape.
Charny was so closely pressed that he could only ply the handle of his sword. Among the clinched and menacing fists, he saw one holding a pistol and trying to get a shot at the queen. He dropped his sword, grasped the pistol by both hands, wrenched it from the holder, and discharged it into the body of the nearest assailant. The man fell as though blasted by lightning.
Charny stooped in the gap to regain his rapier.
At this moment, the queen entered the Assembly vestibule in the retinue of the king.
Charny's sword was already in a hand that had struck at her.
He flew at the murderer, but at this the doors were slammed, and on the step he dropped, at the same time felled by an iron bar on his head and a spear right through his heart.
"As fell my brothers," he muttered. "My poor Andrea!"
The fate of the Charnys was accomplished with the last one, as in the case of Valence and Isidore. That of the queen, for whom their lives were laid down, was yet to be fulfilled.