He had been through the Commune.
"Those fellows at the back have been killing some one," he said; "I can tell by their voices.

They are drunk with the sight of blood." Some new orator gained the ears of the rabble at this moment, and the ill-kempt heads swayed from side to side.
"It is useless," he cried, "telling him what you want.

He will not give it you.

Go and take it! Go and take it, little fathers; that is the only way!" Steinmetz raised his hand and peered down into the crowd, looking for the man of eloquence, and the voice was hushed.
At this moment, however, the yelling increased, and through the door-way leading to the servants' quarters came a stream of men--bloodstained, ragged, torn.

They were waving arms and implements above their heads.
"Down with the aristocrats! kill them--kill them!" they were shrieking.
A little volley of fire-arms further excited them.