At length they entered Paris, and were met by a revolutionary mob which had just been witnessing the feeding of the guillotine with victims from their own body. The appearance of the prisoners was hailed with loud shouts, and numbers of both sexes rushed forward to wreak their still unsatiated vengeance. Sambo had stood aloof; but when he saw the extreme danger which his old friends were in, he joined them, fully determined to afford all the protection in his power. The sight of a black seemed to awaken a still greater degree of excitement amongst the rabble, especially as the negro by his position manifested opposition to their designs. Yells and shouts arose. "A bas les noirs!" "à la lanterne!" "à la place de Grève!" "let us see what colour his blood is!" "an experiment! an experiment!" "away with him to the guillotine!" "we have had no negro yet! an experiment! an experiment!" A desperate rush was made upon them, and both Sambo and the young midshipman were separated from the rest and borne away by the mob. It was perhaps well for Frank that he had been plundered of his uniform soon after his capture; for such was the demoniac hatred of the English, that, as an officer, he probably might have been torn to pieces. The negro addressed them in their own language, announcing himself a native of San Domingo, employed by Monsieur Polverel, but his voice was drowned in the universal outcry, and then he joined in their shouts of "Vive la Nation!" sung snatches of revolutionary songs, danced as they danced, and tried by every means to appease their fury. But the wretches wanted to see a black man die; it promised a new sensation. The mob approached the Hôtel de Ville, when their progress was arrested by a tall man who was supported on a post that elevated him so as to be distinctly conspicuous to all. His dress was shabby in the extreme, and on his head he wore the revolutionary cap, but both Frank and the negro instantly recognised Monsieur Polverel. He spoke to the rabble, and in a vehement address that drew down loud applause he approved of their excesses, whilst the mob, to show that they had fresh victims to immolate, thrust forward the negro and the youth, so that he might see them. Polverel instantly descended, and, rushing amongst the throng, clasped the negro in his arms. "What do you?" exclaimed he; "in your just fury the eye of reason is dimmed--is he not a man and a brother?" and again he embraced him, to the great surprise of the black. "Cease, my friends," continued Polverel; "know ye not that deputies have arrived from San Domingo to sit in the great council of the nation? This is one of them; I am a member of the Society of 'Les Amis des Noirs,' and know him well." He turned to Sambo, "Pardon, citizen deputy, the zeal of the people." He took the arm of the astonished negro, and pinching it most unmercifully, shouted "Vive le peuple, vive la nation;" the _impressive_ hint was not lost, for Sambo's voice rose high in chorus.