“To the barriers—­to the barriers!”

Like a herd of wild horses, driven by the whip of the herdsmen, the mob began to scatter in all directions.  Not knowing what it wanted, not knowing what it would find, half forgetting the very cause and object of its wrath, it made one gigantic rush for the gates of the great city through which the prisoners were supposed to have escaped.

The three Englishmen and Deroulede, with Juliette well protected in their midst, had not joined the general onrush as yet.  The crowd in the open place was still very thick, the outward-branching streets were very narrow:  through these the multitude, scampering, hurrying, scurrying, like a human torrent let out of a whirlpool, rushed down headlong towards the barriers.

Up the Rue Turbigo to the Belleville gate, the Rue des Filles, and the Rue du Chemin Vert, towards Popincourt, they ran, knocking each other down, jostling the weaker ones on one side, trampling others underfoot.  They were all rough, coarse creatures, accustomed to these wild bousculades, ready to pick themselves up, again after any number of falls; whilst the mud was slimy and soft to tumble on, and those who did the trampling had no shoes on their feet.

They rushed out from the dark, open place, these creatures of the night, into streets darker still.

On they ran—­on! on!—­now in thick, heaving masses, anon in loose, straggling groups—­some north, some south, some east, some west.

But it was from the east that came the seagull’s cry.

The little band rand boldly towards the east.  Down the Rue de la Republique they followed their leader’s call.  The crowd was very thick here; the Barriere Menilmontant was close by, and beyond it there was the cemetery of Pere Lachaise.  It was the nearest gate to the Temple Prison, and the mob wanted to be up and doing, not to spend too much time running along the muddy streets and getting wet and cold, but to repeat the glorious exploits of the 14th of July, and capture the barriers of Paris by force of will rather than force of arms.

In this rushing mob the four men, with Juliette in their midst, remained quite unchallenged, mere units in an unruly crowd.

In a quarter of an hour Menilmontant was reached.

The great gates of the city were well guarded by detachments of the National Guard, each under command of an officer.  Twenty strong at most—­what was that against such a throng?

Who had ever dreamed of Paris being stormed from within?

At every gate to the north and east of the city there was now a rabble some four or five thousand strong, wanting it knew not what.  Everyone had forgotten what it was that caused him or her to rush on so blindly, so madly, towards the nearest barrier.

But everyone knew that he or she wanted to get through that barrier, to attack the soldiery, to knock down the captain of the Guard.