As we have said, all these circumstances, added to the news which had just arrived from Paris, increased the natural gloominess of the city.
This news told of the deaths of the queen, the Duc d'Orléans, Madame Roland, and Bailly.
There was talk of the speedy recapture of Toulon from the English, but this was as yet a mere rumor.
Neither was the hour liable to make Strasbourg appear to advantage in the new-comer's eyes. After nine o'clock in the evening the dark, narrow streets were wholly given up to the patrol of the civic guard and of the company of the Propagande, who were watching over the public welfare.
Nothing, in fact, could be more depressing and mournful to a traveller newly arrived from a town which is neither in a state of war nor on the frontier than the sound of the nocturnal tramp of an organized body, stopping suddenly at an order given in a muffled tone, and accompanied by the clashing of arms and the exchange of the password each time two squads met.
Two or three of these patrols had already passed our young traveller and his guide, when they met another, which brought them to a halt with the challenging, "Who goes there?"
In Strasbourg there were three different ways of replying to this challenge, which indicated in a sufficiently characteristic way the varying opinions. The indifferent ones replied, "Friends!" The moderates, "Citizens!" The fanatics, "Sans Culottes!"
"Sans Culottes!" Coclès energetically answered the guard.
"Advance and give the watchword!" cried an imperious voice.
"Ah, good!" said Coclès, "I recognize that voice; it belongs to citizen Tétrell. Leave this to me."