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CHAPTER XX
THE DEAD ARE IN THE
RIGHT AND THE LIVING
ARE NOT IN THE WRONG
The death agony of the barricade was about to begin.
Everything contributed to its tragic majesty at that su-
preme moment; a thousand mysterious crashes in the air,
the breath of armed masses set in movement in the streets
which were not visible, the intermittent gallop of cavalry, the
heavy shock of artillery on the march, the firing by squads,
and the cannonades crossing each other in the labyrinth of
Paris, the smokes of battle mounting all gilded above the
roofs, indescribable and vaguely terrible cries, lightnings of
menace everywhere, the tocsin of Saint-Merry, which now
had the accents of a sob, the mildness of the weather, the
splendor of the sky filled with sun and clouds, the beauty of
the day, and the alarming silence of the houses.
For, since the preceding evening, the two rows of houses
in the Rue de la Chanvrerie had become two walls; fero-
cious walls, doors closed, windows closed, shutters closed.