By the time the militiamen besieging the Bastille came to their senses, the fortress's defenders had already recovered. The huge explosion had terrified them, but for that very reason, their counterattack was all the more ferocious. As a result, the militia suffered many more casualties in the time that followed.
Just then, cheers rose from the rear of the militia.
"The artillery's here! The real artillery's here!"
As it turned out, the National Guard unit that Marquis de Lafayette had prepared had finally arrived.
The arrival of this National Guard unit completely changed the situation. The huge explosion had caused heavy casualties among the militia, but it had also badly damaged the Bastille's walls. Now, those walls, which had never been particularly sturdy, would likely be even less able to withstand cannon fire.
However, when the National Guard brought their cannons over, de Launay did not seem too alarmed. He had just seen for himself what the militia's artillerymen were capable of—at that distance, they could hit anything but the ground.
But the moment the artillery on the other side opened fire, de Launay knew he was in trouble, because the very first cannonball struck the base of the wall dead on.
The cannonball hit the wall, sending up a cloud of dust. Fortunately, the wall did not collapse.
"They really hit it? Was that just dumb luck?" De Launay's eyes widened.
Yes, even now, de Launay still put the National Guard's successful shot down to luck. But he soon changed his mind. The cannon across from them fired again in short order, and hit its target once more. This time, a small section of the wall crumbled away.
"Quick, quick, raise the white flag! We surrender!" De Launay shouted. Clearly, those firing at them now were no so-called "militiamen."