A subdued murmur of assent ran through the ranks of the artisans, and Chromatistes, in alarm, attempted to step forward and address them. But he found himself encompassed with guards and forced to remain silent while the Chief Circle in a few impassioned words made a final appeal to the women, exclaiming that, if the Colour Bill passed, no marriage would henceforth be safe, no woman’s honour secure; fraud, deception, hypocrisy would pervade every household; domestic bliss would share the fate of the Constitution and pass to speedy perdition. “Sooner than this,” he cried, “come death.”

At these words, which were the preconcerted signal for action, the Isosceles Convicts fell on and transfixed the wretched Chromatistes; the regular classes, opening their ranks, made way for a band of women who, under direction of the Circles, moved, back foremost, invisibly and unerringly upon the unconscious soldiers; the artisans, imitating the example of their betters, also opened their ranks. Meantime bands of convicts occupied every entrance with an impenetrable phalanx.