But the temper of the mob was uncertain.
"Vive la nation," cried many voices, and a woman in shrill tones began once more screaming out the first lines of the Marseillaise.
"Vive la nation. Death to the aristos. Where is the Citoyen Varenac?"
The cries were threatening.
A shot was fired towards the balcony, but Morice stood unmoved whilst old Koustak stepped from the window to his side.
"Friends, friends," he shouted. "Ah! you are all mad. It is Monsieur le Marquis, our M'nsieur le Marquis."
But the words, which would have been magic a week ago, fell now on deaf ears.
"Le jour de gloire est arrivé."
The echo of the song rang out from the crowd.
They were in no listening and obedient mood just now.