foot advanced, body contorted; a bald, rude, slope-browed, infuriated visage of the canine species, the eyes starting from their sockets; in his puissant right-hand the brandished dagger, or horse-pistol, as some give it; other dog-visages kindling under him:—­a man not likely to end well!  However, the Guillotine was not got together impromptu, that day, ‘on the Pont Saint-Clair,’ or elsewhere; but indeed continued lying rusty in its loft:  (Hist.  Parl. xxiv. 385-93; xxvi. 229, &c.) Nievre-Chol with military went about, rumbling cannon, in the most confused manner; and the ‘nine hundred prisoners’ received no hurt.  So distracted is Lyons grown, with its cannon rumbling.  Convention Commissioners must be sent thither forthwith:  if even they can appease it, and keep the Guillotine in its loft?

Consider finally if, on all these mad jarrings of the Southern Cities, and of France generally, a traitorous Crypto-Royalist class is not looking and watching; ready to strike in, at the right season!  Neither is there bread; neither is there soap:  see the Patriot women selling out sugar, at a just rate of twenty-two sous per pound!  Citizen Representatives, it were verily well that your quarrels finished, and the reign of Perfect Felicity began.

Chapter 3.3.III.

Growing shrill.

On the whole, one cannot say that the Girondins are wanting to themselves, so far as good-will might go.  They prick assiduously into the sore-places of the Mountain; from principle, and also from jesuitism.

Besides September, of which there is now little to be made except effervescence, we discern two sore-places where the Mountain often suffers:  Marat and Orleans Egalite.  Squalid Marat, for his own sake and for the Mountain’s, is assaulted ever and anon; held up to France, as a squalid bloodthirsty Portent, inciting to the pillage of shops; of whom let the Mountain have the credit!  The Mountain murmurs, ill at ease:  this ‘Maximum of Patriotism,’ how shall they either own him or disown him?  As for Marat personally, he, with his fixed-idea, remains invulnerable to such things:  nay the People’s-friend is very evidently rising in importance, as his befriended People rises.  No shrieks now, when he goes to speak; occasional applauses rather, furtherance which breeds confidence.  The day when the Girondins proposed to ’decree him accused’ (decreter d’accusation, as they phrase it) for that February Paragraph, of ‘hanging up a Forestaller or two at the door-lintels,’ Marat proposes to have them ‘decreed insane;’ and, descending the Tribune-steps, is heard to articulate these most unsenatorial ejaculations:  “Les Cochons, les imbecilles, Pigs, idiots!” Oftentimes he croaks harsh sarcasm, having really a rough rasping tongue, and a very deep fund of contempt for fine outsides; and once or twice, he even laughs, nay ‘explodes into laughter, rit aux eclats,’ at the gentilities