Ange Pitou by Alexandre Dumas part two

Then Billot put his head between the battlements, making a sign with his hand.

On seeing this, loud shouts of applause rose from the populace. It was, in a manner, the revolution rising from the forehead of the Bastille in the person of this man of the people, who was the first to trample on its platform as a conqueror.

“’tis well, sir,” then said De Launay; “all is now terminated between us; you have nothing further to do here. You are called for yonder: go down.”

Billot was sensible of this moderation in a man who had him completely in his power; he went down the same staircase by which he had ascended the ramparts, the governor following him.

As to the major, he had remained there; the governor had given him some orders in a whisper.

It was evident that Monsieur de Launay had but one desire, and this was that the bearer of the flag of truce should become his enemy, and that as quickly as possible.

Billot walked across the courtyard without uttering a word. He saw the artillerymen standing by their guns. The match was smoking at the end of a lance.

Billot stepped before them.

“My friends,” said he, “remember that I came to request your chief to prevent the spilling of blood, and that he has refused.”

“In the name of the king, sir,” cried De Launay, stamping his foot “leave this place!”

“Beware!” said Billot; “if you order me out in the name of the king, I shall come in again in the name of the people.”

Then, turning towards the guard—house, before which the Swiss were standing:—

“Come, now,” said he, “tell me for which side are you?”

The Swiss soldiers remained silent.

De Launay pointed with his finger to the iron gate.

Billot wished to make a last effort.

“Sir,” said he to De Launay, “in the name of the nation! in the name of your brothers!”

“Of my brothers! You call my brothers those men who are howling, ‘Down with the Bastille!’ ‘Death to its governor!’ They may be your brothers, sir, but most assuredly they are not mine!”

“In the name of humanity, then!”

“In the name of humanity, which urges you on to come here, with a hundred thousand men, to cut the throats of a hundred unfortunate soldiers shut up in these walls.”

“And by surrendering the Bastille you would be doing precisely that which would save their lives.”

“And sacrifice my honor.”

Billot said no more to him. This logic of the soldier completely overcame him; but turning to the Swiss and Invalides:—

“Surrender, my friends!” cried he; “it is still time.

In ten minutes it will be too late.”

“If you do not instantly withdraw, sir,” in his turn cried De Launay, “on the word of a gentleman, I will order you to be shot!”

Billot paused a moment, crossed his arms over his chest in token of defiance, exchanged a last threatening glance with De Launay, and passed through the gate.

Chapter XVII

The Bastille

THE crowd was waiting; scorched by the burning July sun, they were trembling, mad with excitement. Gonchon’s men had just joined those of Marat. The Faubourg St. Antoine had recognized and saluted its brother, the Faubourg St. Marceau.

Gonchon was at the head of his patriots. As to Marat, he had disappeared.

The aspect of the square was frightful.

On Billot’s appearance the shouts redoubled.

“Well?” said Gonchon, going up to him.

“Well, the man is brave,” said Billot.

“What mean you by saying ‘The man is brave’?” inquired Gonchon.

“I mean to say that he is obstinate.”

“He will not surrender the Bastille?”

“No.”

“He will obstinately sustain the siege?”

“Yes.”

“And you believe that he will sustain it long?”

“To the very death.”

“Be it so! Death he shall have!”

“But what numbers of men we are about to expose to death!” exclaimed Billot, doubting assuredly that God had given him the right which generals arrogate to themselves,—as do kings and emperors,—men who have received commissions to shed blood.

“Pooh!” said Gonchon, “there are too many in this world, since there is not bread enough for half the population. Is it not so, friends?” he asked, turning towards the crowd.

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