The tocsin was ringing from the steeples, there was a rush of people towards the Tuileries, and cries of "_A bas Robespierre_"-- the most wonderful cry Paris had heard yet.
In the midst of it all I walked unchallenged to the Quai Necker.

Alas! any hopes I had of comfort there were vanished.

The familiar top storey stood empty, with the hole still in the roof, and six doors away, where I had left them last, the attic was empty too..