The news of this crime had a strange and unexpected effect; however
excited and frenzied the crowd was, it instantly realised the
consequences of this act. It was no longer like the murder of Marshal
Brune at Avignon or General Ramel at Toulouse, an act of vengeance on a
favourite of Napoleon, but open and armed rebellion against the king. It
was not a simple murder, it was high treason.

A feeling of the utmost terror spread through the town; only a few
fanatics went on howling in the church, which the Protestants, fearing
still greater disasters, had by this time resolved to abandon. The first
to come out was President Olivier Desmonts, accompanied by M. Vallongues,
who had only just arrived in the city, but who had immediately hurried to
the spot at the call of duty.

M. Juillerat, his two children in his arms, walked behind them, followed
by all the other worshippers. At first the crowd, threatening and
ireful, hooted and threw stones at them, but at the voice of the mayor
and the dignified aspect of the president they allowed them to pass.
During this strange retreat over eighty Protestants were wounded, but not
fatally, except a young girl called Jeannette Cornilliere, who had been
so beaten and ill-used that she died of her injuries a few days later.

In spite of the momentary slackening of energy which followed the
assassination of General Lagarde, the Catholics did not remain long in a
state of total inaction. During the rest of the day the excited populace
seemed as if shaken by an earthquake. About six o'clock in the evening,
some of the most desperate characters in the town possessed themselves of
a hatchet, and, taking their way to the Protestant church, smashed the
doors, tore the pastors' gowns, rifled the poor-box, and pulled the books
to pieces. A detachment of troops arrived just in time to prevent their