Bread," adds, after such fashion: "Will it not?--Yes, Messieurs, if a
Deputation to his Majesty, for the 'Acceptance pure and simple,' seemed
proper,--how much more now, for 'the afflicting situation of Paris;'
for the calming of this effervescence!" President Mounier, with a speedy
Deputation, among whom we notice the respectable figure of Doctor
Guillotin, gets himself forthwith on march. Vice-President shall
continue the order of the day; Usher Maillard shall stay by him to
repress the women. It is four o'clock, of the miserablest afternoon,
when Mounier steps out.

O experienced Mounier, what an afternoon; the last of thy political
existence! Better had it been to 'fall suddenly unwell,' while it was
yet time. For, behold, the Esplanade, over all its spacious expanse,
is covered with groups of squalid dripping Women; of lankhaired male
Rascality, armed with axes, rusty pikes, old muskets, ironshod clubs
(baton ferres, which end in knives or sword-blades, a kind of extempore
billhook);--looking nothing but hungry revolt. The rain pours:
Gardes-du-Corps go caracoling through the groups 'amid hisses;'
irritating and agitating what is but dispersed here to reunite there.

Innumerable squalid women beleaguer the President and Deputation; insist
on going with him: has not his Majesty himself, looking from the window,
sent out to ask, What we wanted? "Bread and speech with the King
(Du pain, et parler au Roi)," that was the answer. Twelve women are
clamorously added to the Deputation; and march with it, across the
Esplanade; through dissipated groups, caracoling Bodyguards, and the
pouring rain.

President Mounier, unexpectedly augmented by Twelve Women, copiously
escorted by Hunger and Rascality, is himself mistaken for a group: