ten o'clock
Less than twenty-four hours to wait for the greatest amusement that had yet been vouchsafed to the mob . There was no time to sleep , no reason in sleep . Armed men would keep the streets to-morrow , but there would be vantage places to be struggled for and kept through long hours of waiting -- yet not so long after all . Monday morning came quickly -- ten o'clock -- one carriage and its guard . The last ride of a king ! The bitter mockery of fate sounded to-day for the Deep Purple of an empire -- and France laughed . Revenge , too , perchance smiled , for the passage of that lone coach left its trail of dead and wounded .