And the conspirators separated.
At ten o'clock, before the official residence of M. Guizot, himself then absent, and probably in full flight for the coast, an immense crowd of the people with torches was assembled. Their purpose was to sing the Marseillaise. The 14th Regiment barred the way—the street was dimly lighted—a single row of lamps along the courtyard wall was all the illumination—a double line of troops was the defence.
"Let me pass!" cried the officer of the National Guard who led the people to the officer who led the troops.
"Impossible!"
"In the name of the people, I demand to pass!"
"In the name of the Law, you shall not!"
"The people command! Forward!" cried the National Guard.
"Present! Fire!" shouted the officer.
There was a roll of musketry—a shrill shriek rang along the Boulevard—the vast mass recoiled—the smoke floated off—sixty-three of the people of Paris lay weltering in their gore!