se crowd, which thronged in at the doors.

'Come, Glenuskie,' said Ralf Percy, as the two youths were pushed chose
together in the press; 'if you have a fancy for being smothered in the
minster, I have none. We shall never be missed. 'Twill be sport to walk
round and see how these hardy rogues contrived to hold out.'

Malcolm willingly turned aside with him, and looked down the sloping
street, which was swarming with comers and goers. The whole place was in
an inflammable state. Soldiers were demanding quarters, which the
citizens unwillingly gave. A refusal or expostulation against a rough
entry led to violence; and ever as the two youths walked farther from the
cathedral, there was more of excitement, more rude oaths of soldiers,
more shrieking of women, often crying out even before any harm was done
to them or their houses.

At last, before a tall overhanging house, there was an immense press, and
a frightful din of shouts and imprecations, filling both the new-comers
with infectious eagerness.

'How now? how now?' called Percy. 'Keep the peace, good fellows.'

'Sir,' cried a number of voices, passionately, 'the French villains have
barred their door. There's a lot of cowardly Armagnacs hid there with
their gold, trying to balk honest men of their ransom.'

Such was the cry resounding on all sides. 'Have at them! There's the
rogue at the windows. Out on the fellows! Burn down the door! 'Tis
Vaurus himself and all his gold. Treason! treason!'

The clamour was convincing to the spirit, if not to the senses. The two
lads believed in the concealed Armagnacs, or perhaps more truly were
carried away by the vehemence around them; and with something of the
spirit of the chase, threw themselves headlong into the affair.

'Open! open!' shouted Ralf. 'Open, in the name of King Henry!'

An old man's face peeped through a little wicket in the door, and at
sight of the two youths, evidently of high rank, said in a trembling
voice, 'Alas! alas! Sir, bid these cruel men go away. I have nothing
here--no one--only my sick daughter.'

'You hear,' said Malcolm, turning round; 'only his sick daughter.'

'Sick daughter!--old liar! Here's an honest tinker makes oath he has
hoards of gold laid up for Vaurus, and ten Armagnacs hidden in his house.
Have at him! Bring fire!'

Blows hailed thick on the door; a flaming torch was handed over the heads
of the throng; horrible growls and roars pervaded them. Malcolm