A justice of the peace, in a condition of extreme agitation, presented himself at the bar. "Monsieur President," he exclaimed, "a quarter of an hour ago I was in the courtyard of the Tuileries. I witnessed grave things, which may enlighten the Assembly on the situation at the palace, at this moment when a terrible struggle is about to break out, which may mark the foundering of the monarchy." "Speak, sir," replied the president. "This morning at six o'clock, the King descended into the courtyard of the Tuileries to review the troops. The Queen accompanied him; behind them went a group of gentlemen in civilian dress, armed some with swords, some with hunting-knives, others with carbines, or blunderbusses. This unaccustomed escort first of all produced a very bad impression upon the National Guard; then, as firm and decisive as was the Queen's countenance, that of the King was undecided, embarrassed, I would even say sour. He seemed to be still half asleep. Some cries, nevertheless, of 'Long live the King!' were heard from some of the companies, but the battalions from Red-Cross and all the cannoniers cried 'Long live the Nation!' I even heard some cries of 'Down with Veto!' 'Down with the traitor!' The King turned pale, made a gesture of wrath, and returned brusquely into the palace. The Queen, left in the courtyard, approached the staffs of the battalions of Ill-Counsel and Arcis which had just arrived, and said to them, indicating the group of gentlemen who attended her, 'These gentlemen are our best friends. They follow us at the moment of danger. They will show the National Guard how one dies for his King--'" The justice was interrupted, his voice was drowned in the great tumult which arose outside, in the courtyard of the Riding Academy. Nearer and nearer drew the clamors. Many of the deputies rose to their feet; some climbed down precipitately from their benches, crying in affright, "The people are invading the Assembly!" "Keep your places!" called out several of their colleagues to those who had quitted their seats, "Let us know how to die, if die we must, at our posts." The agitation waxed its greatest in the hall and the galleries. In vain the president rang his bell, begging his colleagues to return to their benches and be seated. His exhortations falling unheeded, he rose and put on his hat, as a sign that the session was closed. The cries without came closer and closer. Several ushers burst in. One of them, leaping up the steps to the chair, spoke a few words to the president. The latter clasped his hands with a gesture of extreme surprise. Then he uncovered again, and began again to ring his bell vigorously, while the other ushers, going from group to group, or mounting on the benches, spread among the Representatives the news which seemed to produce so extraordinary a sensation. Little by little calm was established. The president was able to make himself heard, and said in a voice of emotion: