by Miomandre.  His devotion and intrepidity equaled that of his comrades; he was eminently skillful also in the use of his weapons, and with his own hand he struck down many of his assailants, till he was gradually forced back by numbers, when he placed his musket as a barrier across the door-way, and thus still kept his enemies at bay, while he shouted to the queen’s ladies, now separated from him by but a single partition, to save the queen, for “the tigers with whom he was struggling were aiming at her life.”

In the annals of the ancient chivalry of the nation it had been recorded as the most brilliant feat of Bayard, that, on a bridge of the Garigliano, he had for a while, with his single arm, stemmed the onset of two hundred Spaniards; and that glorious exploit of the model hero of the nation had never been more faithfully copied and more nobly rivaled than it was on this morning of shame and danger by Miomandre and his intrepid comrades, as they successively stepped into the breach to fight against those whom he truly called, not men, but tigers.  It was but a brief moment before he too was struck down; but he had gained for the ladies a respite sufficient to enable them to secure the safety of their royal mistress.  They roused her from her bed, for her fatigue had been so great that she had hitherto slept soundly through the uproar, and hurried her off to the apartments of the king, who, having in been just similarly awakened, was coming to seek her; and in a few minutes the whole family was collected in his antechamber; while the Body-guard occupied the queen’s bedroom, and the rioters, balked of their intended victim, were pillaging the different rooms into which they had been able to make their way.  Luckily, La Fayette was still absent:  he was having his hair dressed with great composure, while the mob, for whose contentment and orderly behavior he had vouched, was plundering the royal palace and seeking its owners to murder them; and in his absence the Marquis de Vaudreuil and a body of nobles took upon themselves the office of defenders of the crown, and, going down to the court-yard, reproached the National Guard with their inaction at such a moment of danger, and with their manifest sympathy with the rioters.  At first, out of mere shame, the National Guard attempted to justify themselves:  “they had been told,” they said, “that the Body-guard were the aggressors; that they had attacked the people.”  “Do you pretend to believe,” said the gallant marquis, “that two hundred men have been mad enough to attack thirty thousand?” The argument was irresistible; they declared that if the Body-guard would assume the tricolor, they would stand by them as brothers.  And, by a reaction not uncommon at such times of excitement, the two regiments became reconciled in a moment.  As no tricolor cockades could be procured, they exchanged shakos, and, in many cases, arms.  And presently, when the Coup-tetes, after mutilating the bodies of two of the Body-guard who had been killed on the previous evening, were preparing to murder two or three more who had fallen into their hands, the National Guard dashed to their rescue, shouting out, with a curious identification of their force with the old French army, that “they would save the Body-guard who saved them at Fontenoy,” and brought them off unhurt.