I must teach you a lesson, must I?" And he lifted a
pistol and levelled it. The crowd did not know whether it was the one he
had discharged or another, but they gave back with a sharp gasp. "I must
teach you, must I?" he continued with scorn. "Here, Bigot, Badelon,
drive me these blusterers! Rid the street of them! A Tavannes! A
Tavannes!"
Not by word or look had he before this betrayed that he had supports. But
as he cried the name, a dozen men armed to the teeth, who had stood
motionless under the Croix du Tiroir, fell in a line on the right flank
of the crowd. The surprise for those nearest them was complete. With
the flash of the pikes before their eyes, with the cold steel in fancy
between their ribs, they fled every way, uncertain how many pursued, or
if any pursuit there was. For a moment the mob, which a few minutes
before had seemed so formidable that a regiment might have quailed before
it, bade fair to be routed by a dozen pikes.
And so, had all in the crowd been what he termed them, the rabble and
sweepings of the streets, it would have been. But in the heart of it,
and felt rather than seen, were a handful of another kidney; Sorbonne
students and fierce-eyed priests, with three or four mounted archers, the
nucleus that, moving through the streets, had drawn together this
concourse.
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