“You doubt me,” said he, “you feel distrust of information unpaid and voluntary.  But I have been ordered by Mordecai, the chief of our tribe in England, to watch over you; and this information is a part of my obedience to the command.”  He suddenly darted away.

Notwithstanding the steadiness of his assertions I still doubted their probability, and, to examine the point for myself, I strayed towards the palace.  All there was tranquil; a few lights were scattered through the galleries, but every sound of life, much less of watchfulness and preparation, was still.  The only human beings in sight were some dismounted cavalry, and a battalion of the national guard, lounging:  about the square.  As I found it impossible to think of rest until the truth or falsehood of my information was settled, I next wandered along the Boulevarde, in the direction of the Faubourg St Antoine, the focus of all the tumults of Paris; but all along this fine avenue was hushed as if a general slumber had fallen over the city.  The night was calm, and the air was a delicious substitute for the hot and reeking atmosphere of this populous quarter in the day.  I saw no gathering of the populace; no hurrying torches.  I heard no clash of arms, nor tramp of marching men; all lay beneath the young moon, which, near her setting, touched the whole scene with a look of soft and almost melancholy quietude.  The character of my Israelite friend began to fall rapidly in the scale, and I had made up my mind that insurrection had gone to its slumbers for that night; when, as I was returning by the Place de Bastile, and was passing under the shadow of one of the huge old houses that then surrounded that scene of hereditary terror, two men, who had been loitering beside the parapet of the fosse, suddenly started forward and planted themselves in my way.  I flung one of them aside, but the other grasped my arm, and, drawing a dagger, told me that my life was at his mercy.  His companion giving a signal, a group of fierce-looking fellows started from their lurking-places; and of course further resistance was out of the question.  I was ordered to follow them, and regarding myself as having nothing to fear, yet uneasy at the idea of compulsion, I remonstrated, but in vain; and was finally led through a labyrinth of horrid alleys, to what I now found to be the headquarters of the insurrection.  It was an immense building, which had probably been a manufactory, but was now filled with the leaders of the mob.  The few torches which were its only light, and which scarcely showed the roof and extremity of the building, were, however, enough to show heaps of weapons of every kind—­muskets, sabres, pikes, and even pitchforks and scythes, thrown on the floor.  On one side, raised on a sort of desk, was a ruffianly figure flinging placards to the crowd below, and often adding some savage comment on their meaning, which produced a general laugh.  Flags inscribed with “Liberty Bread or Blood—­Down