s' shoulders, and emboldened by his adversary's
inactivity, began to squeeze himself through the bars, Tavannes raised a
pistol, which he had held unseen behind him, cocked it at leisure, and
levelled it at the foul face which leered close to his. The dwarf saw
the weapon and tried to retreat; but it was too late. A flash, a scream,
and the wretch, shot through the throat, flung up his hands, and fell
back into the arms of a lean man in black who had lent him his shoulder
to ascend.

For a few seconds the smoke of the pistol filled the window and the room.
There was a cry that the Huguenots were escaping, that the Huguenots were
resisting, that it was a plot; and some shouted to guard the back and
some to watch the roof, and some to be gone. But when the fumes cleared
away, the mob saw, with stupor, that all was as it had been. Count
Hannibal stood where he had stood before, a grim smile on his lips.

"Who comes next?" he cried in a tone of mockery. "I have more pistols!"
And then with a sudden change to ferocity, "You dogs!" he went on. "You
scum of a filthy city, sweepings of the Halles! Do you think to beard
me? Do you think to frighten me or murder me? I am Tavannes, and this
is my house, and were there a score of Huguenots in it, you should not
touch one, nor harm a hair of his head! Begone, I say again, while you
may! Seek women and children, and kill them. But not here!"

For an instant the mingled scorn and brutality of his words silenced
them. Then from the rear of the crowd came an answer--the roar of an
arquebuse. The ball whizzed past Count Hannibal's head, and, splashing
the plaster from the wall within a pace of Tignonville, dropped to the
ground.

Tavannes laughed. "Bungler!" he cried. "Were you in my troop I would
dip your trigger-finger in boiling oil to teach you to shoot! But you
weary me, dogs. I must teach you a lesson, must I?" And he lifted a
pistol and levelled it. The crowd did not know whether it was the one he
had discharged or another, but they gave back with a sharp gasp. "I must
teach you, must I?" he continued with scorn. "Here, Bigot, Badelon,
drive me these blusterers! Rid the street of them! A Tavannes! A
Tavannes!"

Not by word or look had he before this betrayed that he had supports. But
as he cried the name, a dozen men armed to the teeth, who had stood
motionless under the Croix du Tiroir, fell in a line on the right flank
of the crowd. The surprise f