ere in an
hour."

This was a thunderbolt. They all started up, vociferating, and raising
their arms towards the ceiling. For several minutes it was impossible
to hear one's self speak. The company surrounded the messenger,
overwhelming him with questions.

"Damnation!" the commander at length shouted, "don't make such a row. Be
calm, or I won't answer for anything."

Everyone sank back in his chair again, heaving long-drawn sighs. They
then obtained a few particulars. The messenger had met the column at Les
Tulettes, and had hastened to return.

"There are at least three thousand of them," said he. "They are marching
in battalions, like soldiers. I thought I caught sight of some prisoners
in their midst."

"Prisoners!" cried the terrified bourgeois.

"No doubt," the marquis interrupted in his shrill voice. "I've
heard that the insurgents arrest all persons who are known to have
conservative leanings."

This information gave a finishing touch to the consternation of the
yellow drawing-room. A few bourgeois got up and stealthily made for the
door, reflecting that they had not too much time before them to gain a
place of safety.

The announcement of the arrests made by the Republicans appeared to
strike Felicite. She took the marquis aside and asked him: "What do
these men do with the people they arrest?"

"Why, they carry them off in their train," Monsieur de Carnavant
replied. "They no doubt consider them excellent hostages."

"Ah!" the old woman rejoined, in a strange tone.

Then she again thoughtfully watched the curious scene of panic around
her. The bourgeois gradually disappeared; soon there only remained
Vuillet and Roudier, whom the approaching danger inspired with some
courage. As for Granoux, he likewise remained in his corner, his legs
refusing to perform their office.

"Well, I like this better," Sicardot remarked, as he observed the flight
of the other adherents. "Those cowards were exasperating me at last.
For more than two years they've been speaking of shooting all the
Republicans in the province, and to-day they wouldn't even fire a
halfpenny cracker under their noses."

Then he took up his hat and turned towards the door.

"Let's see," he continued, "time presses. Come, Rougon."

Felicite, it seemed, had been waiting for this moment. She placed
herself between the door and her husband, who, for that matter, was not
particularly eager to follow the formidable Sicardot.

"I won't have