" cried Pillot; "the barricade will soon be
down. This way. _Peste!_" and he uttered a groan.

In the excitement he had forgotten, and I had not noticed, that the
window was barred.

"We have trapped ourselves, M. de Lalande!" he exclaimed bitterly.
"There is no way out!"

"Chut! The bars will break," said I, clambering to the ledge, and
grasping the middle one; but it was very thick and firmly fixed.

The roar of the mob outside doubled my energy; I pulled and tugged with
all my might, skinning my hands in the effort. Hammer, bang, crash!
behind me. How long would our defences stand? Would the soldiers
arrive in time? Would the bar never loosen? Surely it was giving!
Yes! I could have shouted aloud in triumph--it was yielding! Another
wrench would be sufficient! Oh, for the strength of twenty men! Now!

A yell of joy and a groan of despair announced that I was too late.
The door was down, the table overturned, the room was filled with the
howling mob. They were headed by two men, one dressed as a
charcoal-burner, the other as a mason. Each, however, carried a good
sword, and in spite of their disguises I recognised them as Maubranne
and Peleton.

"There he is!" cried the baron pointing to me, and again the appalling
shouts of "Kill the assassin!" were raised.

For these poor deluded people, led away by such scoundrels, I felt only
a deep pity, but my anger rose hot against Maubranne and Peleton. Why
did they call me assassin? Why endeavour to take my life and to
blacken my good name at the same time?

At the last pinch Peleton hung behind, but the baron, who did not lack
courage, advanced, and the mob followed with a hideous roar. Do not
imagine that I wish to set myself up for a hero. At that terrible
moment I had no thought of anything, and what I did was done almost
unconsciously.

Maubranne came first, while behind him waved a forest of clubs and
staves. I saw in his eyes that he intended to kill me, and, rendered
desperate by fear, I leaped at him, plunging my sword into his breast.
He dropped heavily, and for the moment an intense hush fell on the
startled crowd. As if by inspiration I saw my one chance and seized it
eagerly.

"Citizens!" I cried, gazing boldly on the sea of angry faces, "that man
lied to you. He is no charcoal-burner, but the Baron Maubranne,
Conde's bitterest enemy. I am ignorant of what has happened in Paris.
Two nights ago this Maubranne set a trap for me an