ious
stamping; for, little by little, all who could force their way into the
room, or up the stairs, had there collected together.

These furious cries recalling Jacques for a moment to his senses, he
whispered to Morok: "It is slaughter you would provoke? I wash my hands
of it."

"We shall have time to let them know at the factory. We can give these
fellows the slip on the road," answered Morok. Then he cried aloud,
addressing the host, who was terrified at this disorder: "Brandy!--let
us drink to the health of the brave Wolves! I will stand treat." He
threw some money to the host, who disappeared, and soon returned with
several bottles of brandy, and some glasses.

"What! glasses?" cried Morok. "Do jolly companions, like we are, drink
out of glasses?" So saying, he forced out one of the corks, raised the
neck of the bottle to his lips, and, having drunk a deep draught, passed
it to the gigantic quarryman.

"That's the thing!" said the latter. "Here's in honor of the
treat!--None but a sneak will refuse, for this stuff will sharpen the
Wolves' teeth!"

"Here's to your health, mates!" said Morok, distributing the bottles.

"There will be blood at the end of all this," muttered Sleepinbuff, who,
in spite of his intoxication, perceived all the danger of these fatal
incitements. Indeed, a large portion of the crowd was already quitting
the yard of the public-house, and advancing rapidly towards M. Hardy's
factory.

Those of the workmen and inhabitants of the village, who had not chosen
to take any part in this movement of hostility (they were the majority),
did not make their appearance, as this threatening troop passed along
the principal street; but a good number of women, excited to fanaticism
by the sermons of the abbe, encouraged the warlike assemblage with
their cries. At the head of the troop advanced the gigantic blaster,
brandishing his formidable bar, followed by a motley mass, armed with
sticks and stones. Their heads still warmed by their recent libations
of brandy, they had now attained a frightful state of frenzy. Their
countenances were ferocious, inflamed, terrible. This unchaining of
the worst passions seemed to forbode the most deplorable consequences.
Holding each other arm-in-arm, and walking four or five together, the
Wolves gave vent to their excitement in war-songs, which closed with the
following verse:

"Forward! full of assurance! Let us try our vigorous arms! They have
wearied out our