These file out; through grim-silent seas of people. Only the Commons Deputies file not out; but stand there in gloomy silence, uncertain what they shall do. One man of them is certain; one man of them discerns and dares! It is now that King Mirabeau starts to the Tribune, and lifts up his lion-voice. Verily a word in season; for, in such scenes, the moment is the mother of ages! Had not Gabriel Honoré been there,—one can well fancy, how the Commons Deputies, affrighted at the perils which now yawned dim all round them, and waxing ever paler in each other’s paleness, might very naturally, one after one, have _glided off;_ and the whole course of European History have been different! But he is there. List to the _brool_ of that royal forest-voice; sorrowful, low; fast swelling to a roar! Eyes kindle at the glance of his eye:—National Deputies were missioned by a Nation; they have sworn an Oath; they—but lo! while the lion’s voice roars loudest, what Apparition is this? Apparition of Mercurius de Brézé, muttering somewhat!—‘Speak out,’ cry several.—‘Messieurs,’ shrills De Brézé, repeating himself, ‘You have heard the King’s orders!’—Mirabeau glares on him with fire-flashing face; shakes the black lion’s mane: ‘Yes, Monsieur, we have heard what the King was advised to say: and you who cannot be the interpreter of his orders to the States-General; you, who have neither place nor right of speech here; _you_ are not the man to remind us of it. Go, Monsieur, tell these who sent you that we are here by the will of the People, and that nothing shall send us hence but the force of bayonets!’[153] And poor De Brézé shivers forth from the National Assembly;—and also (if it be not in one faintest glimmer, months later) finally from the page of History!— Hapless De Brézé; doomed to survive long ages, in men’s memory, in this faint way, with tremulent white rod! He was true to Etiquette, which was his Faith here below; a martyr to respect of persons. Short woollen cloaks could not kiss Majesty’s hand as long velvet ones did. Nay lately, when the poor little Dauphin lay dead, and some ceremonial Visitation came, was he not punctual to announce it even to the Dauphin’s _dead body:_ ‘Monseigneur, a Deputation of the States-General!’[154] _Sunt lachrymæ rerum._