recourse to its point. But this last and dreaded resource
served only to exasperate the multitude. From time to time a
shot from a musket or the blade of a rapier flashed among
the crowd; projectiles continued to hail down from the
windows and some shots were heard, the echo of which, though
they were probably fired in the air, made all hearts
vibrate. Voices, unheard except on days of revolution, were
distinguished; faces were seen that only appeared on days of
bloodshed. Cries of “Death! death to the guards! to the
Seine with the officer!” were heard above all the noise,
deafening as it was. Raoul, his hat in ribbons, his face
bleeding, felt not only his strength but also his reason
going; a red mist covered his sight, and through this mist
he saw a hundred threatening arms stretched over him, ready
to seize upon him when he fell. The guards were unable to
help any one — each one was occupied with his
self-preservation. All was over; carriages, horses, guards,
and perhaps even the prisoner were about to be torn to
shreds, when all at once a voice well known to Raoul was
heard, and suddenly a great sword glittered in the air; at
the same time the crowd opened, upset, trodden down, and an
officer of the musketeers, striking and cutting right and
left, rushed up to Raoul and took him in his arms just as he
was about to fall.
“God’s blood!” cried the officer, “have they killed him? Woe
to them if it be so!”
And he turned around, so stern with anger, strength and
threat, that the most excited rebels hustled back on one
another, in order to escape, and some of them even rolled
into the Seine.
“Monsieur d’Artagnan!” murmured Raoul.
“Yes, ‘sdeath! in person, and fortunately it seems for you,
my young friend. Come on, here, you others,” he continued,
rising in his stirrups, raising his sword, and addressing
those musketeers who had not been able to follow his rapid
onslaught. “Come, sweep away all that for me! Shoulder
muskets! Present arms! Aim —- ”
Page 300
Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
At this command the mountain of populace thinned so suddenly
that D’Artagnan could not repress a burst of Homeric
laughter.
“Thank you, D’Artagnan,” said Comminges, showing half of his
body through the window of the broken vehicle, “thanks, my
young friend; your name — that I may mention it to the
queen.”
Raoul was about to reply when D’Artagnan bent down to his
ear.
“Hold your tongue,” said he, “and let me answer. Do not lose
time, Comminges,” he continued; “get out of the carriage if
you can and make another draw up; be quick, or in five
minutes the mob will be on us again with swords and muskets
and you will be killed. Hold! there’s a carriage coming over
yonder.”
Then bending again to Raoul, he whispered: “Above all things
do not divulge your name.”
“That’s right. I will go,” said Comminges; “and if they come
back, fire!”
“Not at all — not at all,” replied D’Artagnan; “let no one
move. On the contrary, one shot at this moment would be paid
for dearly to-morrow.”
Comminges took his four guards and as many musketeers and
ran to the carriage, from which he made the people inside
dismount, and brought them to the vehicle which had upset.
But when it was necessary to convey the prisoner from one
carriage to the other, the people, catching sight of him
whom they called their liberator, uttered every imaginable
cry and knotted themselves once more around the vehicle.
“Start, start!” said D’Artagnan. “There are ten men to
accompany you. I will keep twenty to hold in check the mob;
go, and lose not a moment. Ten men for Monsieur de
Comminges.”
As the carriage started off the cries were redoubled and
more than ten thousand people thronged the Quai and
overflowed the Pont Neuf and adjacent streets. A few shots
were fired and one musketeer was wounded.
“Forward!” cried D’Artagnan, driven to extremities, biting
his moustache; and then he charged with his twenty men and
dispersed them in fear. One man alone remained in his place,