Ten Years Later by Dumas, Alexandre. Part two

This cry, shouted with an ensemble, obtained enthusiastic

success. The populace had come to witness an execution, and

here was an opportunity offered them of performing one

themselves. It was this that must be most agreeable to the

populace: therefore, they ranged, themselves immediately on

the party of the aggressors against the archers, crying with

the minority, which had become, thanks to them, the most

compact majority: “Yes, yes: to the fire with the thieves!

Vive Colbert!”

“Mordioux!” exclaimed D’Artagnan, “this begins to look

serious.”

One of the men who remained near the chimney approached the

window, a firebrand in his hand. “Ah, ah!” said he, “it gets

warm.” Then, turning to his companion: “There is the

signal,” added he; and he immediately applied the burning

brand to the wainscoting. Now, this cabaret of the

Image-de-Notre-Dame was not a very newly-built house, and

therefore did not require much entreating to take fire. In a

second the boards began to crackle, and the flames arose

sparkling to the ceiling. A howling from without replied to

the shouts of the incendiaries. D’Artagnan, who had not seen

what passed, from being engaged at the window, felt, at the

same time, the smoke which choked him and the fire that

scorched him. “Hola!” cried he, turning round, “is the fire

here? Are you drunk or mad, my masters?”

The two men looked at each other with an air of

astonishment. “In what?” asked they of D’Artagnan; “was it

not a thing agreed upon?”

“A thing agreed upon that you should burn my house!”

vociferated D’Artagnan, snatching the brand from the hand of

the incendiary, and striking him with it across the face.

The second wanted to assist his comrade, but Raoul, seizing

him by the middle, threw him out of the window, whilst

D’Artagnan pushed his man down the stairs. Raoul, first

disengaged, tore the burning wainscoting down, and threw it

flaming into the chamber. At a glance D’Artagnan saw there

was nothing to be feared from the fire, and sprang to the

window. The disorder was at its height. The air was filled

with simultaneous cries of “To the fire!” “To the death!”

“To the halter!” “To the stake!” “Vive Colbert!” “Vive le

roi!” The group which had forced the culprits from the hands

of the archers had drawn close to the house, which appeared

to be the goal towards which they dragged them. Menneville

was at the head of this group, shouting louder than all the

others, “To the fire! to the fire! Vive Colbert!” D’Artagnan

began to comprehend what was meant. They wanted to burn the

condemned, and his house was to serve as a funeral pile.

“Halt, there!” cried he, sword in hand, and one foot upon

the window. “Menneville, what do you want to do?”

Page 363

Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later

“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” cried the latter; “give way, give

way!”

“To the fire! to the fire with the thieves! Vive Colbert!”

These cries exasperated D’Artagnan. “Mordioux!” said he.

“What! burn the poor devils who are only condemned to be

hung? that is infamous!”

Before the door, however, the mass of anxious spectators,

rolled back against the walls, had become more thick, and

closed up the way. Menneville and his men, who were dragging

along the culprits, were within ten paces of the door.

Menneville made a last effort. “Passage! passage!” cried he,

pistol in hand.

“Burn them! burn them!” repeated the crowd. “The

Image-de-Notre-Dame is on fire! Burn the thieves! burn the

monopolists in the Image-de-Notre-Dame!”

There now remained no doubt, it was plainly D’Artagnan’s

house that was their object. D’Artagnan remembered the old

cry, always so effective from his mouth:

“A moi! mousquetaires!” shouted he, with the voice of a

giant, with one of those voices which dominate over cannon,

the sea, the tempest. “A moi! mousquetaires!” And suspending

himself by the arm from the balcony, he allowed himself to

drop amidst the crowd, which began to draw back from a house

that rained men. Raoul was on the ground as soon as he, both

sword in hand. All the musketeers on the Place heard that

challenging cry — all turned round at that cry, and

recognized D’Artagnan. “To the captain, to the captain!”

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