In the midst of all this uproar, however, a piece of buffoonery, performed by the well-known Bachaumont, restored some sort of good humour to the assembly; for, seizing a momentary pause, when every tongue, as if by common consent, halted to take breath, he passed behind the famous De Retz, then archbishop-coadjutor of Paris, snatched forth a poniard, which he had espied lying concealed in the bosom of that factious prelate, and, holding it up to the eyes of the Parliament, exclaimed, "Gentlemen, gentlemen, look at the breviary of our archbishop!"
A roar of laughter succeeded, which left the whole of that grave assembly so much out of countenance, that it was some time before they could speak of any serious business, much more return to the angry disputation in which they had been interrupted.
Taking advantage of the change, one of the lawyers, called the President de Coigneux, rose, and made the most sensible proposition which had yet been heard; namely, that, as the deputies had acted without authority, and as the responsibility of what they had done, of course rested upon themselves, they should be sent back with the treaty they had framed, and, though permitted to take it for the basis of a new one, should be directed, in addition, to stipulate for immunity and recompence to the generals and nobles who had engaged in the cause of the Parliament.
He had not yet concluded his harangue, however, when a tremendous noise in the court below, and even in the hall without, together with loud shouts of "Down with Mazarin! Down with the Parliament! Hang up the deputies! Long live the noble generals! Let us have a republic! Set fire to the _palais!_" and other such sweet and delectable exhortations, roared by the stentorian voices of the crowd, caused the orator to turn very pale, and to sit down before he had finished his oration. Another lawyer rose, to second the proposal of the first: but by this time the noise had become so tremendous that what he said could not be distinguished; and the moment after the great door of the hall opened, and one of the doorkeepers entered, pale and trembling, announcing, in a voice scarcely articulate with fear, that the populace had forced their way into the _Salle des pas perdus_, and demanded to speak with the Duc de Beaufort.