s.
Seizing the springs, he was carried along with it. The two officers of
the peace, less agile, followed crying, "Stop! Stop!"

Georges, seated on the right of Leridant, who held the reins, had turned
to the back of the carriage and tried to follow the fortunes of the
pursuit through the glass. The moment that he had jumped into the
carriage, he had seen the detectives, and said to Leridant: "Whip him,
whip him hard!"

"To go where?" asked the other.

"I do not know, but we must fly!"

And the horse, tingling with blows, galloped off.

At the end of the Passage des Jacobins, which at a sharp angle ended in
the Rue de la Harpe, Leridant was obliged to slow up in order to turn on
the Place Saint-Michel, and not miss the entrance to the Rue des
Fosses-Monsieur-le-Prince. He turned towards the Rue du Four, hoping,
thanks to the steepness of the Rue des Fosses, to distance the
detectives and arrive at Caron's before they caught up with the
carriage.

From where he was Georges could not, through the little window, see
Caniolle crouched behind the hood. But he saw others running with all
their might. Destavigny and Petit had indeed continued the pursuit, and
their cries brought out all the spies posted in the quarter. Just as
Leridant wildly dashed into the Rue des Fosses, a whole pack of
policemen rushed upon him.

At the approach of this whirlwind the frightened passers-by shrank into
the shelter of the doorways. Their minds were so haunted by one idea
that at the sight of this cab flying past in the dark with the noise of
whips, shouts, oaths, and the resonant clang of the horse's hoofs on the
pavement, a single cry broke forth, "Georges! Georges! it is Georges!"
Anxious faces appeared at the windows, and from every door people came
out, who began to run without knowing it, drawn along as by a
waterspout. Did Georges see in this a last hope of safety? Did he
believe he could escape in the crowd? However that may be, at the top of
the Rue Voltaire he jumped out into the street. Caniolle, at the same
moment, left the back of the cab--which Petit, and another policeman
called Buffet, had at last succeeded in outrunning,--threw himself on
the reins, and allowing himself to be dragged along, mastered the horse,
which stopped, exhausted. Buffet took one step towards Georges, who
stretched him dead with a pistol shot; with a second ball the Chouan rid
himself, for a moment at least, of Caniolle. He still thought, probabl