But some Catholics went in with them, and soon the same shouts which had been heard without were heard also within.  The general, however, was on the alert, and as soon as the shouts arose inside the gens d’armes entered the church and arrested those who had caused the disturbance.  The crowds tried to rescue them on their way to prison, but the general appeared at the head of imposing forces, at the sight of which they desisted.  An apparent cam succeeded the tumult, and the public worship went on without further interruption.

The general, misled by appearances, went off himself to attend a military mass, and at eleven o’clock returned to his quarters for lunch.  His absence was immediately perceived and taken advantage of.  In the:  twinkling of an eye, the crowds, which had dispersed, gathered together in even greater numbers and the Protestants, seeing themselves once more in danger, shut the doors from within, while the gens d’armes guarded them without.  The populace pressed so closely round the gens d’armes, and assumed such a threatening attitude, that fearing he and his men would not be able to hold their own in such a throng, the captain ordered M. Delbose, one of his officers, to ride off and warn the general.  He forced his way through the crowd with great trouble, and went off at a gallop.  On seeing this, the people felt there was no time to be lost; they knew of what kind the general was, and that he would be on the spot in a quarter of an hour.  A large crowd is invincible through its numbers; it has only to press forward, and everything gives way, men, wood, iron.  At this moment the crowd, swayed by a common impulse, swept forward, the gens d’armes and their horses were crushed against the wall, doors gave way, and instantly with a tremendous roar a living wave flooded the church.  Cries of terror and frightful imprecations were heard on all sides, everyone made a weapon of whatever came to hand, chairs and benches were hurled about, the disorder was at its height; it seemed as if the days of the Michelade and the Bagarre were about to return, when suddenly the news of a terrible event was spread abroad, and assailants and assailed paused in horror.  General Lagarde had just been assassinated.

As the crowd had foreseen, no sooner did the messenger deliver his message than the general sprang on his horse, and, being too brave, or perhaps too scornful, to fear such foes, he waited for no escort, but, accompanied by two or three officers, set off at full gallop towards the scene of the tumult.  He had passed through the narrow streets which led to the meeting-house by pushing the crowd aside with his horse’s chest, when, just as he got out into the open square, a young man named Boisson, a sergeant in the Nimes National Guard, came up and seemed to wish to speak to him.  The general seeing a man in uniform, bent down without a thought of danger to listen to what he had to say, whereupon Boisson drew a pistol out and fired at him.  The ball broke the collar-bone and lodged in the neck behind the carotid artery, and the general fell from his horse.