And yet she seemed to do it wilfully, as if coming to the end of her patience, all her proud, aristocratic blood in revolt against this evil-smelling crowd which surrounded her.

Half-tipsy men and noisome, naked urchins seemed to have sprung from everywhere.

“Oho, quelle aristo!” they shouted with ironical astonishment, gazing at the young girl’s face, fingering her gown, thrusting begrimed, hate-distorted faces close to her own.

Instinctively she recoiled and backed towards the house immediately on her left.  It was adorned with a porch made of stout oak beams, with a tiled roof; an iron lantern descended from this, and there was a stone parapet below, and a few steps, at right angles from the pavement, led up to the massive door.

On these steps the young girl had taken refuge.  Proud, defiant, she confronted the howling mob, which she had so wilfully provoked.

“Of a truth, Citizeness Margot, that grey dress would become you well!” suggested a young man, whose red cap hung in tatters over an evil and dissolute-looking face.

“And all that fine lace would make a splendid jabot round the aristo’s neck when Citizen Samson holds up her head for us to see,” added another, as with mock elegance he stooped and with two very grimy fingers slightly raised the young girl’s grey frock, displaying the lace-edged petticoat beneath.

A volley of oaths and loud, ironical laughter greeted this sally.

“’Tis mighty fine lace to be thus hidden away,” commented an elderly harridan.  “Now, would you believe it, my fine madam, but my legs are bare underneath my kirtle?”

“And dirty, too, I’ll lay a wager,” laughed another.  “Soap is dear in Paris just now.”

“The lace on the aristo’s kerchief would pay the baker’s bill of a whole family for a month!” shouted an excited voice.

Heat and brandy further addled the brains of this group of French citizens; hatred gleamed out of every eye.  Outrage was imminent.  The young girl seemed to know it, but she remained defiant and self-possessed, gradually stepping back and back up the steps, closely followed by her assailants.

“To the Jew with the gewgaw, then!” shouted a thin, haggard female viciously, as she suddenly clutched at the young girl’s kerchief, and with a mocking, triumphant laugh tore it from her bosom.

This outrage seemed to be the signal for the breaking down of the final barriers which ordinary decency should have raised.  The language and vituperation became such as no chronicler could record.

The girl’s dainty white neck, her clear skin, the refined contour of shoulders and bust, seemed to have aroused the deadliest lust of hate in these wretched creatures, rendered bestial by famine and squalor.

It seemed almost as if one would vie with the other in seeking for words which would most offend these small aristocratic ears.

The young girl was now crouching against the doorway, her hands held up to her ears to shut out the awful sounds.  She did not seem frightened, only appalled at the terrible volcano which she had provoked.