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Chapter 303 Riots at the Palace of Justice

January, 1771.

Starting from the early morning of the 16th, the howling winter wind from the westerly belt brought down the sky full of flying snow on every street and alley in Paris.

With the arrival of this blizzard, experienced citizens also know that the coldest day of the year has arrived.

With the coming of the cold wave, the lower class citizens are even more looking forward to the seven million livres donated by His Royal Highness the Crown Prince at the Paris Comedy.

It can be said that since the end of the charity auction, every morning we can see groups of poor people pooling their money together to buy the latest morning newspaper, wanting to know the end of the subsidy that is related to their wealth and lives as soon as possible.

When will it be distributed?

Even those small citizens who don't rely much on subsidies and whose families are well-off, and even the more affluent middle class, are extremely concerned about this subsidy. After all, this donation comes from their future king.

If His Royal Highness the Crown Prince really fulfills this donation perfectly, then these subjects can finally confidently and boldly confirm that their future monarch is an unquestionably benevolent person.

However, by midnight on the 15th, after the first drop of rain had condensed into snowflakes, the citizens had not received any news about the seven million livres.

It was not until the early morning of the 16th that the long-awaited poor people finally received the latest news about this subsidy.

However, what they were waiting for was not some good news, but a piece of bad news:

"The Countess du Barry once again occupied the misappropriation of the second winter allowance."

No one knows where this news came from. It may have come from a drunken rant, or it may have been a rumor spread by someone with ulterior motives. In any case, the source of this news has been completely unknown.

Verified.

This bad news spread rapidly in Paris like mushrooms after a spring rain. Almost overnight, most of Paris already knew that the lady in the Tuileries Palace had once again transferred the seven million livres to her own pocket.

inside.

At first, people did not have much trust in this almost groundless rumor, and the poor people comforted each other, saying that this must be fake news fabricated by some madman who wanted to gain attention.

However, the turning point occurred on the morning of the 17th:

The royal official responsible for matters related to the winter subsidy, Director Jonah, was identified by several reporters from the Observer daily while watching a play in the theater.

After the theater ended, the reporters certainly refused to give up this excellent interview opportunity. They immediately surrounded Director Jonah and asked him whether the recent rumors about Madame Du Barry were true.

To the surprise of the reporters and all the onlookers, Director Jonah did not engage in conventional perfunctory and prevarication, but instead very implicitly acknowledged the authenticity of the news.

It was completely predictable that on the morning of the 18th, the news that Madame Du Barry had misappropriated subsidy money was suspected to be confirmed and immediately appeared on the first three pages of major newspapers. The Observer Daily even bluntly stated on the front page:

wrote:

"Seven million in relief money disappeared - the thief was the woman in the palace."

For a time, the entire Île-de-France was shocked by the news.

The dignitaries and gentlemen regarded this incident as a hot piece of gossip, and lamented Madame Du Barry's greed. They did not expect that she would have the courage to embezzle the second subsidy fund.

As for the poor people at the bottom, they will not laugh off this news as calmly as the powerful.

The citizens never imagined that the four million livres that Madame Du Barry had embezzled could not satisfy this woman's greedy mouth, and that she would even extend her claws and claws to the seven million livres.

This money is related to whether they can survive in this man-eating metropolis, and whether their wives and children can see the first wild flowers in spring.

His Excellency Bonaparte and His Royal Highness the Crown Prince gave them hope of living, but before this hope could even take root on this frozen soil, it would be uprooted and killed by that damn woman.

In the end, their blood and tears were not as good as the gleam of pearl on that woman's body.

Shocked, surprised, angry.

Every ordinary citizen had the same reaction after seeing the news.

Having been repeatedly deprived of what they deserved and everything they depended on for survival, even the most cowardly people felt their blood begin to boil in the face of this cruel injustice.

On January 18, hundreds of citizens tried to return to the Champ de Mars, preparing to start a new resistance at the place where they held their first protest rally.

Hundreds of sparks immediately ignited the anger of the citizens. In just half an hour, more than 300 people gathered on the Champ de Mars. Half of them were not even poor people at the bottom, but citizens who opposed the royal family's extravagance and waste.

class.

They stood hand in hand, shouted their demands loudly, and asked Madame Du Barry to personally come forward to explain all these crimes.

However, this resistance did not last long. The Paris police force, which was on round-the-clock alert, effortlessly extinguished the ignited spark.

The police and soldiers have long been aware of the recent rumors and boiling public complaints. The number of soldiers sent to patrol the streets has doubled compared with previous days. The sound of mounted police's hooves can be heard in the streets and alleys at all times.

The well-trained mounted police soldiers easily broke up the human wall formed by the protesters, and a large number of police soldiers followed closely behind the mounted police officers and began to control and arrest the protesters who were impacted in the square.

Soon, soldiers arrested more than fifty people on the Champ de Mars. Upon seeing this, the remaining protesters had to flee and dive into the deep and winding alleys of Paris.

After such a fierce conflict, most of the police and soldiers felt that the mob would be peaceful for a while.

This chapter is not finished yet, please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content! However, what these policemen never expected was that a resistance that would spread throughout Paris was still brewing.

The fall of a group of predecessors will not only not extinguish the flame of resistance in the hearts of the citizens, but will instead arouse the anger and bloodiness deep in their bones.

In such a tense and anxious atmosphere, time came to the next day.

...

In the early morning of January 19th, it was sunny after snow.

Paris, Tuileries Palace, King's Suite.

"You mean, my dear Jeanne put the seven million into her own pocket?"

Louis XV looked at his press secretary with a puzzled look on his face. He was listening to the latest news in Paris.

"I'm not sure, Your Majesty, it's just that this is what people say."

The press secretary said rigorously:

"Perhaps you can ask Madame Du Barry and Director Jonah yourself."

At this time, the palace steward stood up and reminded:

"Your Majesty, Madame Du Barry and Director Jonah are not in the palace now. They will not return to the palace until evening."

"Oh? Where have they both gone? Why didn't I see Jeanne when I got up today?" Louis XV asked with a little displeasure.

"Director Jonah is busy outside preparing for the payment of subsidies."

The palace steward recalled and replied:

"As for Madame Du Barry...she left the palace early this morning, and she left in a hurry. She seemed to be going to see a friend..."

"Friend? Forget it, let's wait until Jeanne comes back."

Louis XV looked a little distracted and shook his head. Then, the king's face gradually darkened and he said to himself:

"I hope my dear Jeanne won't do something stupid like that. She probably won't do it."

...

At the same time, on the top floor of the Paris police station.

"The rest is up to you, brother Giovanni."

A tired police colonel yawned and returned to the station, smiled and patted Colonel Giovanni on the shoulder.

The colonel had just finished his command rotation, and it was Colonel Giovanni's turn to take over the command and take charge of the on-the-spot command of all Paris police soldiers.

Colonel Giovanni looked worried and looked out the window blankly. It wasn't until the colonel patted him on the shoulder that he suddenly woke up and nodded with a forced smile:

"It's a hard job to be on guard duty at night, go get some rest, man."

The police colonel did not take Giovanni's uneasiness seriously. After all, he had also heard that this unfortunate colleague had recently offended His Excellency Bonaparte for the second time, and thought that Colonel Giovanni was still worried about Bonaparte.

Lord Ba's revenge.

"That's right." The police colonel reminded before leaving:

"You have to pay attention to the area around the Champ de Mars. Yesterday, dozens of mobs were arrested there. Those guys have been restless recently. Oh, it's all because of those rumors, damn it."

"I understand, don't worry."

Colonel Giovanni smiled coquettishly and watched as the colonel simply packed up his belongings and then left the station with a yawn.

Soon, only Colonel Giovanni was left on the top floor of the empty station.

Colonel Giovanni, who took over the command, couldn't help but take a deep breath and looked out the window calmly.

His whole body was tense, even trembling slightly, and his facial expression was as tense as a death row prisoner who was about to be pushed to the guillotine.

There is only one thing that can make this majestic police colonel so nervous:

What Monsignor Bonaparte asked him to do was today, during the six hours he held command.

Six hours later, Colonel Giovanni was about to say goodbye to the land he had lived in for decades, and immediately took his wife and children to Corsica and became a Corsican for the rest of his life.

Looking at the vast white snow outside the window, Colonel Giovanni couldn't help but feel sad in his heart. He just stared blankly at the snowy scene of Paris, not wanting to think about anything.

But time no longer allowed the colonel to be sad for too long:

"Sir! Sir!"

Suddenly, amid a burst of hurried shouting, an adjutant pushed open the door roughly. He had already ignored the etiquette of knocking, and then shouted at Colonel Giovanni:

"There's a situation, it's on the Ile de la Cité! It's still those mobs!"

Colonel Giovanni, however, continued to look out the window as if he hadn't heard anything. After a while, he turned around and nodded expressionlessly, not at all surprised by the news:

"What happened to Ile de la Cité? Please tell me more carefully."

"Yes, yes, sir..." The adjutant calmed down a bit, swallowed and said:

"Those mobs began to gather again, this time in front of the gate of the Palais de Justice on the Ile de la Cité! According to the patrol there, the number of mobs participating in the rally was far beyond imagination. There were probably thousands of people, and there were still more people coming.

Hurry over there! Even the Pont Saint-Louis on both sides of the Ile de la Cité is blocked by the crowd!"

"Knew it..."

Colonel Giovanni lowered his head, sighed softly, and murmured softly.

The adjutant glanced at Colonel Giovanni with some confusion and continued anxiously:

"Sir, I suspect this is a premeditated rally! The soldiers on the island and nearby troops alone are far from enough to suppress them. We must provide reinforcements!"

Colonel Giovanni nodded, thought for a long time, and then ordered in a deep voice:

"I will immediately lead my troops to the Ile de la Cité. You should go immediately to convey my order. The police and soldiers on the island and nearby must not conflict with the mob."

...

almost at the same time

Ile de la Cité, the jewel in the center of the Seine, home to the Palais de Justice, Notre Dame Cathedral and Sainte-Chapelle.

"Unite! Don't retreat!"

Among the crowds of people, Oga Kumas waved the flagpole in his hand, with a resolute face, standing in front of the gate of the Palace of Justice and roared:

"My compatriots, we can no longer tolerate the greed of that woman! And fellow judges in the door! If you still flaunt the fairness and justice of the law, you should agree to our request and summon that woman to the Palace of Justice.

!Let her face trial in the High Court!”

This chapter is not over, please click on the next page to continue reading! Behind Oga Kumas, there is an endless sea of ​​​​people, composed of citizens who are angry about injustice.

.

No one knows how these people appeared on the Ile de la Cité. It seemed that in just a moment, hundreds of demonstrators appeared in front of the Palace of Justice.

And this demonstration instantly ignited the anger in the hearts of the citizens for the second time.

In a very short period of time, more and more ordinary people heard the news and joined the protest. In less than an hour, the number of demonstrators on Ile de la Cité exceeded 2,000, and this number is still growing rapidly.

among.

The people followed Oga and shouted with all their arms. The sound shook the whole city like thunder. The flames of resistance were flying in the sky. Burning enthusiasm and calls to resist oppression were intertwined in the air, inspiring everyone.

The entire Île de la Cité was filled with citizens who came after hearing the news. The crowds were like a blazing fire, raging across every inch of the Île de la Cité.

Even the Saint-Louis Bridge on both sides of the island, which connects the city of Paris, was filled with demonstrators coming from all directions in the west. Everyone looked at the towering main hall of the Palace of Justice in the center of the island with indignation and raised their voices.

Melt into the shouts of the crowd:

"Must be judged! For justice!"

"Public trial of Madame Du Barry! No room for maneuver!"

"That woman must pay for her crimes!"

Oga Kumas also waved the flagpole in his hand vigorously amidst the waves of noise. The light blue flag had a scale symbolizing justice drawn on the front, and a sword symbolizing judgment drawn on the back.

His shouts stirred everyone's hearts and ignited endless enthusiasm and anger in the hearts of the people.

No one knew who the young man was who was dancing the flag and shouting in the middle of the crowd, just like all the demonstrators were strangers to each other, but this did not prevent Oga Kumas's appeal from quickly spreading to everyone present.

In the ears of readers, it has become their common appeal.

Thousands of Parisians gathered in this small place, surrounding the entire Palace of Justice, waiting for a response from the Paris High Court in the Palace of Justice.

Oga Kumas planted the flagpole on the ground, looked back excitedly at the endless crowd of people who came in response, and suddenly felt that the blood vessels in his body began to heat up and boil.

Although this was the task of His Excellency Bonaparte, this gray rat in the sewer never thought that one day he would be able to stand under the same sun with thousands of people, waving the flag for fairness and justice.

At this moment, a demonstrator in the crowd quietly touched Oga Kumas and whispered in his ear:

"Chief, the police force is coming. Do we want our people to retreat first?"

Oga Koumas frowned slightly and looked across the river from a higher position. Sure enough, a large group of heavily armed police soldiers were approaching Ile de la Cité.

The demonstrator glanced at the flag held high in Oga Kumas' hands and reminded him urgently:

"No matter what, you should leave first, chief! The police will definitely regard you as the primary criminal."

"No, I won't evacuate."

After less than a second of hesitation, Oga Kumas shook his head resolutely and said:

"Let others decide whether to stay on the Ile de la Cité, but I will definitely stay here and never leave."

Having said that, Oga Kumas glanced at the approaching police reinforcements, tightened his grip on the flagpole in his hand, and thought to himself:

"Now is the time for me to trust you, Monsignor Bonaparte."


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