"Impossible!" said Louvieres; "sir, beware of driving us to despair."
"Impossible!" cried a shrill voice from the end of the room.
Comminges turned and saw Dame Nanette, her eyes flashing with anger and a broom in her hand.
"My good Nanette, be quiet, I beseech you," said Broussel.
"Me! keep quiet while my master is being arrested! he, the support, the liberator, the father of the people! Ah! well, yes; you have to know me yet. Are you going?" added she to Comminges.
The latter smiled.
"Come, sir," said he, addressing Broussel, "silence that woman and follow me."
"Silence me! me! me!" said Nanette. "Ah! yet one wants some one besides you for that, my fine king's cockatoo! You shall see." And Dame Nanette sprang to the window, threw it open, and in such a piercing voice that it might have been heard in the square of Notre Dame:
"Help!" she screamed, "my master is being arrested; the Councillor Broussel is being arrested! Help!"
"Sir," said Comminges, "declare yourself at once; will you obey or do you intend to rebel against the king?"
"I obey, I obey, sir!" cried Broussel, trying to disengage himself from the grasp of his two daughters and by a look restrain his son, who seemed determined to dispute authority.
"In that case," commanded Comminges, "silence that old woman."
"Ah! old woman!" screamed Nanette.
And she began to shriek more loudly, clinging to the bars of the window:
"Help! help! for Master Broussel, who is arrested because he has defended the people! Help!"
Comminges seized the servant around the waist and would have dragged her from her post; but at that instant a treble voice, proceeding from a kind of entresol, was heard screeching:
"Murder! fire! assassins! Master Broussel is being killed!
Master Broussel is being strangled."
It was Friquet's voice; and Dame Nanette, feeling herself supported, recommenced with all her strength to sound her shrilly squawk.
Many curious faces had already appeared at the windows and the people attracted to the end of the street began to run, first men, then groups, and then a crowd of people; hearing cries and seeing a chariot they could not understand it; but Friquet sprang from the entresol on to the top of the carriage.
"They want to arrest Master Broussel!" he cried; "the guards are in the carriage and the officer is upstairs!"
The crowd began to murmur and approached the house. The two guards who had remained in the lane mounted to the aid of Comminges; those who were in the chariot opened the doors and presented arms.
"Don't you see them?" cried Friquet, "don't you see? there they are!"
The coachman turning around, gave Friquet a slash with his whip which made him scream with pain.
"Ah! devil's coachman!" cried Friquet, "you're meddling too!
Wait!"
And regaining his entresol he overwhelmed the coachman with every projectile he could lay hands on.
The tumult now began to increase; the street was not able to contain the spectators who assembled from every direction; the crowd invaded the space which the dreaded pikes of the guards had till then kept clear between them and the carriage. The soldiers, pushed back by these living walls, were in danger of being crushed against the spokes of the wheels and the panels of the carriages. The cries which the police officer repeated twenty times: "In the king's name," were powerless against this formidable multitude -- seemed, on the contrary, to exasperate it still more; when, at the shout, "In the name of the king," an officer ran up, and seeing the uniforms ill-treated, he sprang into the scuffle sword in hand, and brought unexpected help to the guards.
This gentleman was a young man, scarcely sixteen years of age, now white with anger. He leaped from his charger, placed his back against the shaft of the carriage, making a rampart of his horse, drew his pistols from their holsters and fastened them to his belt, and began to fight with the back sword, like a man accustomed to the handling of his weapon.
During ten minutes he alone kept the crowd at bay; at last Comminges appeared, pushing Broussel before him.
"Let us break the carriage!" cried the people.
"In the king's name!" cried Comminges.
"The first who advances is a dead man!" cried Raoul, for it was in fact he, who, feeling himself pressed and almost crushed by a gigantic citizen, pricked him with the point of his sword and sent him howling back.
Comminges, so to speak, threw Broussel into the carriage and sprang in after him. At this moment a shot was fired and a ball passed through the hat of Comminges and broke the arm of one of the guards. Comminges looked up and saw amidst the smoke the threatening face of Louvieres appearing at the window of the second floor.
"Very well, sir," said Comminges, "you shall hear of this anon."
"And you of me, sir," said Louvieres; "and we shall see then who can speak the loudest."
Friquet and Nanette continued to shout; the cries, the noise of the shot and the intoxicating smell of powder produced their usual maddening effects.
"Down with the officer! down with him!" was the cry.
"One step nearer," said Comminges, putting down the sashes, that the interior of the carriage might be well seen, and placing his sword on his prisoner's breast, "one step nearer, and I kill the prisoner; my orders were to carry him off alive or dead. I will take him dead, that's all."
A terrible cry was heard, and the wife and daughters of Broussel held up their hands in supplication to the people; the latter knew that this officer, who was so pale, but who appeared so determined, would keep his word; they continued to threaten, but they began to disperse.
"Drive to the palace," said Comminges to the coachman, who was by then more dead than alive.
