inst the wall; here and there, groups
had formed tumultuously round the principal leaders of the band; the
most neatly dressed of these men wore frocks, with caps, whilst
others were almost in rags, for, as we have already said, many of the
hangers-on at the barriers, and people without any profession, had
joined the troop of the Wolves, whether welcome or not. Some hideous
women, with tattered garments, who always seem to follow in the track of
such people, accompanied them on this occasion, and, by their cries and
fury, inflamed still more the general excitement. One of them, tall,
robust, with purple complexion, blood shot eyes, and toothless jaws,
had a handkerchief over her head, from beneath which escaped her yellow,
frowsy hair. Over her ragged gown, she wore an old plaid shawl, crossed
over her bosom, and tied behind her back. This hag seemed possessed
with a demon. She had tucked up her half-torn sleeves; in one hand
she brandished a stick, in the other she grasped a huge stone; her
companions called her Ciboule (scullion).

This horrible hag exclaimed, in a hoarse voice: "I'll bite the women of
the factory; I'll make them bleed."

The ferocious words were received with applause by her companions, and
with savage cries of "Ciboule forever!" which excited her to frenzy.

Amongst the other leaders, was a small, dry pale man, with the face of
a ferret, and a black beard all round the chin; he wore a scarlet Greek
cap, and beneath his long blouse, perfectly new, appeared a pair of neat
cloth trousers, strapped over thin boots. This man was evidently of a
different condition of life from that of the other persons in the troop;
it was he, in particular, who ascribed the most irritating and insulting
language to the workmen of the factory, with regard to the inhabitants
of the neighborhood. He howled a great deal, but he carried neither
stick nor stone. A full-faced, fresh-colored man, with a formidable bass
voice, like a chorister's, asked him: "Will you not have a shot at those
impious dogs, who might bring down the Cholera on the country, as the
curate told us?"

"I will have a better shot than you," said the little man, with a
singular, sinister smile.

"And with what, I'd like to see?"

"Probably, with this," said the little man, stooping to pick up a
large stone; but, as he bent, a well-filled though light bag, which he
appeared to carry under his blouse, fell to the ground.

"Look, you are losing both b