half past twelve
Meantime Gamelin in the Council Hall , his bent brow pressed against a window , looks out with a haggard eye and sees the lamps flare and smoke in the gloom . Hanriot 's cannon are parked before the Hôtel de Ville . In the black Place de Grève surges an anxious crowd , in uncertainty and suspense . At half past twelve torches are seen turning the corner of the Rue de la Vannerie , escorting a delegate of the Convention , clad in the insignia of office , who unfolds a paper and reads by the ruddy light the decree of the Convention , the outlawry of the members of the insurgent Commune , of the members of the Council General who are its abettors and of all such citizens as shall listen to its appeal . Outlawry , death without trial ! The mere thought pales the cheek of the most determined . Gamelin feels the icy sweat on his brow .