dragged in the gutter, and, striking his corpse, they exclaim, "He's
a scurvy wretch (galeux) and a monster who has betrayed us; the
nation demands his head to exhibit to the public," and the man who
was kicked is asked to cut it off. -- This man, an unemployed
cook, a simpleton who "went to the Bastille to see what was going
on," thinks that as it is the general opinion, the act is patriotic,
and even believes that he "deserves a medal for destroying a
monster." Taking a saber which is lent to him, he strikes the bare
neck, but the dull saber not doing its work, he takes a small black-
handled knife from his pocket, and, "as in his capacity of cook he
knows how to cut meat," he finishes the operation successfully.
Then, placing the head on the end of a three-pronged pitchfork, and
accompanied by over two hundred armed men, "not counting the mob,"
he marches along, and, in the Rue Saint-Honoré, he has two
inscriptions attached to the head, to indicate without mistake whose
head it is. -- They grow merry over it: after filing alongside of
the Palais-Royal, the procession arrives at the Pont-Neuf, where,
before the statue of Henry IV., they bow the head three times,
saying, "Salute thy master ! " -- This is the last joke: it is to be
found in every triumph, and inside the butcher, we find the rogue.


VII.

Murders of Foulon and Berthier.

Meanwhile, at the Palais-Royal, other buffoons, who with the levity
of gossips sport with lives as freely as with words, have drawn u.
During the night between the 13th and 14th of July, a list of
proscriptions, copies of which are hawked about. Care is taken to