All at once, tremendous yells broke out on all sides.  The rattle of a drum, now and then, might be distinguished, shouts and shrieks resounded, and there was a sharp fire of musketry from the barricade, and from the adjoining windows; there was a general rush to the front, and Louis could only guard Isabel by pressing her into the recess of the closed doorway of one of the houses, and standing before her, preventing himself from being swept away only by exerting all his English strength against the lean, wild beings who struggled past him, howling and screaming.  The defenders sprang upon the barricade, and thrust back and hurled down the National Guards, whose heads were now and then seen as they vainly endeavoured to gain the summit.  This desperate struggle lasted for a few minutes, then cries of victory broke out, and there was sharp firing on both sides, which, however, soon ceased; the red flag and the blouses remaining still in possession.  Isabel had stood perfectly silent and motionless through the whole crisis, and though she clung to her protector’s arm, it was not with nervous disabling terror, even in the frightful tumult of the multitude.  There was some other strength with her!

‘You are not hurt?’ said Louis, as the pressure relaxed.

‘Oh no! thank God!  You are not?’

‘Are you ready?  We must make a rush before the next assault.’

A lane opened in the throng to afford passage for the wounded.  Isabel shrank back, but Louis drew her on hastily, till they had attained the very foot of the barricade, where a space was kept clear, and there was a cry ‘Au large, or we shall fire.’

‘Let us pass, citizens,’ said Louis, hastily rehearsing the French he had been composing.  ’You make not war on women.  Let me take this young lady to her mother.’

Grim looks were levelled at them by the fierce black-bearded men, and their mutterings of belle made her cling the closer to her guardian.

‘Let her pass, the poor child!’ said more than one voice.

‘Hein!—­they are English, who take the bread out of our mouths.’

‘If you were a political economist,’ said Louis, gravely, fixing his eyes on the shrewd-looking, sallow speaker, I would prove to you your mistake; but I have no time, and you are too good fellows to wish to keep this lady here, a mark for the Garde Nationale.’

‘He is right there,’ said several of the council of chiefs, and a poissarde, with brawny arms and a tall white cap, thrusting forward, cried out, ’Let them go, the poor children.  What are they doing here?  They look fit fo be set up in the church for waxen images!’

‘Take care you do not break us,’ exclaimed Louis, whose fair cheek had won this tribute; and his smile, and the readiness of his reply, won his admission to the first of the steps up the barricade.

‘Halte la!’ cried a large-limbed, formidable-looking ruffian on the summit, pointing his musket towards them; ’none passes here who does not bring a stone to raise our barricade for the rights of the Red Republic, and cry, La liberte, l’egalite, et la, fraternite, let it fit his perfidious tongue as it may.’