Hearing the window opened, he looked up, and exclaimed, "Ah! madame, order the gate to be opened, that I may lay at the feet of my generous master the trophies I have won with this trusty sword," waving the said sword over his head, and pointing to a pair of silver-mounted pistols and a sabre that he had placed on the ground while he knocked at the gate.
I recognised in this man a helper in the stables of Comte A.d'Orsay, of whom it had a short time previously been reported to us, that when a party of the populace had attempted to force the gate of the stable offices, which are situated in the Rue Verte, and the English grooms and coachman were in excessive alarm, this man presented himself at the window, sword in hand, declaring that he, though engaged in the same cause as themselves, would defend, to the last moment of his life, the horses of his master, and the Englishmen whom he considered to be under his protection.

This speech elicited thunders of applause from the crowd who retreated, leaving the alarmed servants, whose protector he had avowed himself, impressed with the conviction that he is little short of a hero.
This man--these same servants, only a few days ago, looked on as the stable drudge, who was to perform all the dirty work, while they, attired in smart liveries, and receiving triple the wages given to him, were far more ornamental than useful in the establishment of their employer.

They offered him money as a reward for his spirited conduct (the English of all classes, but more especially of that to which they appertain, think that money pays all manner of debts), but he indignantly refused the proffered gift.

This revolutionary hero had been fighting for several hours to-day, and is said to have evinced a courage and enthusiasm that remind one of all we read of the spirit of the old Imperial Guard, when animated by the presence of their mighty chief.
-- -- has just brought the intelligence, that the Tuileries and the Louvre are taken by the people! Comte A.d'O---- sent two of his servants (Brement, formerly drill-serjeant in the Guards, and now his porter, and Charles who was an hussar, and a brave soldier) to the Tuileries to endeavour to save the portrait of the Dauphin by Sir Thomas Lawrence--an admirable picture.

His instructions as to its _emplacement_ were so correct, that the servants found it instantly, but torn in pieces, and the fragments strewed on the floor.
These men report that even in this feat a strange mixture of the terrible and the comic was exhibited, for _while_ a dead body was placed on the throne of Charles the Tenth, some men appeared in the windows of the palace attired in the gold and silver tissue dresses of the Duchesse de Berri, with feathers and flowers in their heads, and fans in their hands, which they waved to the multitude beneath, with all the coquettish airs and graces of _would-be-fine_ ladies.
The busts of Charles the Tenth were broken and trampled upon; the wardrobes of the royal family were scattered, torn, and thrown among the people, who seemed to regard them only as trophies of the victory they had achieved, and not for their intrinsic value.
The palace of the Archbishop of Paris has been sacked, and every object in it demolished.