oot on it with an intrepid air,
"if you pass this, you attack us in our own house, and you will be
answerable for all that may happen."

"There or elsewhere we will have the fight! the Wolves must eat the
Devourers. Now for the attack!" cried the fierce quarryman, raising his
hammer to strike Agricola.

But the latter, throwing himself on one side by a sudden leap, avoided
the blow, and struck with his hammer full at the chest of the quarryman,
who staggered for a moment, but instantly recovering his legs, rushed
furiously on Agricola, crying: "Follow me, Wolves!"

CHAPTER V.

THE RETURN.

As soon as the combat had begun between Agricola and the blaster, the
general fight became terrible, ardent, implacable. A flood of assailants,
following the quarryman's steps, rushed into the house with irresistible
fury; others, unable to force their way through this dreadful crowd,
where the more impetuous squeezed, stifled, and crushed these who were
less so, went round in another direction, broke through some lattice
work, and thus placed the people of the factory, as it were, between two
fires. Some resisted courageously; others, seeing Ciboule, followed by
some of her horrible companions, and by several of the most ill-looking
ruffians, hastily enter that part of the Common-Dwelling house in which
the women had taken refuge, hurried in pursuit of this band; but some of
the hag's companions, having faced about, and vigorously defended the
entrance of the staircase against the workmen, Ciboule, with three or
four like herself, and about the same number of no less ignoble men,
rushed through the rooms, with the intention of robbing or destroying all
that came in their way. A door, which at first resisted their efforts,
was soon broken through; Ciboule rushed into the apartment with a stick
in her hand, her hair dishevelled, furious, and, as it were, maddened
with the noise and tumult. A beautiful young girl (it was Angela), who
appeared anxious to defend the entrance to a second chamber, threw
herself on her knees, pale and supplicating, and raising her clasped
hands, exclaimed: "Do not hurt my mother!"

"I'll serve you out first, and your mother afterwards," replied the
horrible woman, throwing herself on the poor girl, and endeavoring to
tear her face with her nails, whilst the rest of the ruffianly band broke
the glass and the clock with their sticks, and possessed themselves of
some articles of wearing apparel.