of
this tunnel was guarded by an iron gate, and Mr Mountchesney had
secured the key. The gate was opened, Warner and his friends made almost
superhuman efforts at this moment to keep back the multitude, Lady de
Mowbray and her daughters had passed through, when there came one of
those violent undulations usual in mobs, and which was occasioned by a
sudden influx of persons attracted by what was occurring, and Sybil and
those who immediately surrounded her and were guarding the retreat were
carried far away. The gate was closed, the rest of the party had passed,
but Sybil was left, and found herself entirely among strangers.

In the meantime the castle was in possession of the mob. The first great
rush was to the cellars: the Bishop himself headed this onset, nor
did he rest until he was seated among the prime binns of the noble
proprietor. This was not a crisis of corkscrews; the heads of the
bottles were knocked off with the same promptitude and dexterity as if
they were shelling nuts or decapitating shrimps: the choicest wines of
Christendom were poured down the thirsty throats that ale and spirits
had hitherto only stimulated; Tummas was swallowing Burgundy; Master
Nixon had got hold of a batch of tokay; while the Bishop himself seated
on the ground and leaning against an arch, the long perspective of
the cellars full of rapacious figures brandishing bottles and torches,
alternately quaffed some very old Port and some Madeira of many voyages,
and was making up his mind as to their respective and relative merits.

While the cellars and offices were thus occupied, bands were parading
the gorgeous saloons and gazing with wonderment on their decorations
and furniture. Some grimy ruffians had thrown themselves with disdainful
delight on the satin couches and the state beds: others rifled the
cabinets with an idea that they must be full of money, and finding
little in their way, had strewn their contents--papers and books and
works of art over the floors of the apartments; sometimes a band who had
escaped from below with booty came up to consummate their orgies in
the magnificence of the dwelling rooms. Among these were Nixon and his
friends, who stared at the pictures and stood before the tall mirrors
with still greater astonishment. Indeed many of them had never seen an
ordinary looking-glass in their lives.

"'Tis Natur!" said Master Nixon surveying himself, and turning to
Juggins.

Many of these last grew frantic,