more turned upon Gaston with cries of "Vengeance! kill
him!"

He saw that he was lost. His enemies had seized the first objects they
could lay their hands upon, and he received several wounds. He jumped
upon the billiard-table, and, making a rapid spring, dashed through the
large glass window of the cafe. He was fearfully cut by the broken glass
and splinters, but he was free.

Gaston had escaped, but he was not yet saved. Astonished and
disconcerted at his desperate feat, the crowd for a moment were
stupefied; but, recovering their presence of mind, they started in
pursuit of him.

The weather was bad, the ground wet and muddy, and heavy black clouds
were rolling westward; but the night was not dark.

Gaston ran on from tree to tree, making frequent turnings, every moment
on the point of being seized and surrounded, and asking himself what
course he should take.

Finally he determined, if possible, to regain Clameran.

With incredible rapidity he darted diagonally across the fair-ground, in
the direction of the levee which protected the valley of Tarascon from
inundations.

Unfortunately, upon reaching this levee, planted with magnificent trees
which made it one of the most charming walks of Provence, Gaston forgot
that the entrance was closed by a gate with three steps, such as are
always placed before walks intended for foot-passengers, and rushed
against it with such violence that he was thrown back and badly bruised.

He quickly sprang up; but his pursuers were upon him.

This time he could expect no mercy. The infuriated men at his heels
yelled that fearful cry which in the evil days of lawless bloodshed had
often echoed in that valley: "In the Rhone with him! In the Rhone with
the marquis!"

His reason had abandoned him; he no longer knew what he did. His
forehead was cut, and the blood trickled from the wound into his eyes,
and blinded him.

He must escape, or die in the attempt.

He had tightly clasped the bloody knife with which he had stabbed Lazet.
He struck his nearest foe; the man fell to the ground with a heavy
groan.

A second blow gained him a moment's respite, which gave him time to open
the gate and rush along the levee.

Two men were kneeling over their wounded companion, and five others
resumed the pursuit.

But Gaston flew fast, for the horror of his situation tripled his
energy; excitement deadened the pain of his wounds; with elbows held
tight to his sides, and holding his b