victuals.

I glanced up at the line of sky visible between the tall houses,
and lo! the dawn was coming. It wanted scarcely half-an-hour of
daylight, though down in the dark streets about us the night
still reigned. Yes, the morning was coming, bright and hopeful,
and the city was quiet. There were no signs, no sounds of riot
or disorder. Surely, I thought, surely Pavannes must be
mistaken. Either the plot had never existed, that was most
likely, or it had been abandoned, or perhaps--Crack!

A pistol shot! Short, sharp, ominous it rang out on the instant,
a solitary sound in the night! It was somewhere near us, and I
stopped. I had been speaking to my companion at the moment.
"Where was it?" I cried, looking behind me.

"Close to us. Near the Louvre," he answered, listening intently.
"See! See! Ah, heavens!" he continued in a voice of despair,
"it was a signal!"

It was. One, two, three! Before I could count so far, lights
sprang into brightness in the windows of nine out of ten houses
in the short street where we stood, as if lighted by a single
hand. Before too I could count as many more, or ask him what
this meant, before indeed, we could speak or stir from the spot,
or think what we should do, with a hurried clang and clash, as if
brought into motion by furious frenzied hands, a great bell just
above our heads began to boom and whirr! It hurled its notes
into space, it suddenly filled all the silence. It dashed its
harsh sounds down upon the trembling city, till the air heaved,