The spectacle which the Greve now presented was a frightfulone. The heads, leveled by the perspective, extended afar,thick and agitated as the ears of corn in a vast plain. Fromtime to time a fresh report, or a distant rumor, made theheads oscillate and thousands of eyes flash. Now and thenthere were great movements. All those ears of corn bent, andbecame waves more agitated than those of the ocean, whichrolled from the extremities to the center, and beat, likethe tides, against the hedge of archers who surrounded thegibbets. Then the handles of the halberds were let fall uponthe heads and shoulders of the rash invaders; at times,also, it was the steel as well as the wood, and, in thatcase, a large empty circle was formed around the guard; aspace conquered upon the extremities, which underwent, intheir turn the oppression of the sudden movement, whichdrove them against the parapets of the Seine. From thewindow, that commanded a view of the whole Place, D'Artagnansaw, with interior satisfaction, that such of the musketeersand guards as found themselves involved in the crowd, wereable, with blows of their fists and the hilts of theirswords, to keep room. He even remarked that they hadsucceeded, by that esprit de corps which doubles thestrength of the soldier, in getting together in one group tothe amount of about fifty men; and that, with the exceptionof a dozen stragglers whom he still saw rolling here andthere, the nucleus was complete, and within reach of hisvoice. But it was not the musketeers and guards only thatdrew the attention of D'Artagnan. Around the gibbets, andparticularly at the entrances to the arcade of Saint Jean,moved a noisy mass, a busy mass; daring faces, resolutedemeanors were to be seen here and there, mingled with sillyfaces and indifferent demeanors; signals were exchanged,hands given and taken. D'Artagnan remarked among the groups,and those groups the most animated, the face of the cavalierwhom he had seen enter by the door of communication from hisgarden, and who had gone upstairs to harangue the drinkers.That man was organizing troops and giving orders.

"Mordioux!" said D'Artagnan to himself, "I was not deceived;I know that man, - it is Menneville. What the devil is hedoing here?"

A distant murmur, which became more distinct by degrees,stopped this reflection, and drew his attention another way.This murmur was occasioned by the arrival of the culprits; astrong picket of archers preceded them, and appeared at theangle of the arcade. The entire crowd now joined as if inone cry; all the cries united formed one immense howl.D'Artagnan saw Raoul was becoming pale, and he slapped himroughly on the shoulder. The fire-keepers turned round onhearing the great cry, and asked what was going on. "Thecondemned are arrived," said D'Artagnan. "That's well,"replied they, again replenishing the fire. D'Artagnan lookedat them with much uneasiness; it was evident that these menwho were making such a fire for no apparent purpose had somestrange intentions. The condemned appeared upon the Place.They were walking, the executioner before them, whilst fiftyarchers formed a hedge on their right and their left. Bothwere dressed in black; they appeared pale, but firm. Theylooked impatiently over the people's heads, standing ontip-toe at every step. D'Artagnan remarked this. "Mordioux!"cried he, "they are in a great hurry to get a sight of thegibbet!" Raoul drew back, without, however, having the powerto leave the window. Terror even has its attractions.

"To the death! to the death!" cried fifty thousand voices.

"Yes; to the death!" howled a hundred frantic others, as ifthe great mass had given them the reply.

"To the halter! to the halter!" cried the great whole; "Vivele roi!"

"Well," said D'Artagnan, "this is droll; I should havethought it was M. Colbert who had caused them to be hung."

There was, at this moment, a great rolling movement in thecrowd, which stopped for a moment the march of thecondemned. The people of a bold and resolute mien, whomD'Artagnan had observed, by dint of pressing, pushing, andlifting themselves up, had succeeded in almost touching thehedge of archers. The cortege resumed its march. All atonce, to cries of "Vive Colbert!" those men, of whomD'Artagnan never lost sight, fell upon the escort, which invain endeavored to stand against them. Behind these men wasthe crowd. Then commenced, amidst a frightful tumult, asfrightful a confusion. This time there was something morethan cries of expectation or cries of joy, there were criesof pain. Halberds struck men down, swords ran them through,muskets were discharged at them. The confusion became thenso great that D'Artagnan could no longer distinguishanything. Then, from this chaos, suddenly surged somethinglike a visible intention, like a will pronounced. Thecondemned had been torn from the hands of the guards, andwere being dragged towards the house ofL'Image-de-Notre-Dame. Those who dragged them shouted, "ViveColbert!" The people hesitated, not knowing which they oughtto fall upon, the archers or the aggressors. What stoppedthe people was, that those who cried "Vive Colbert!" beganto cry, at the same time, "No halter! no halter! to thefire! to the fire! burn the thieves! burn the extortioners!"This cry, shouted with an ensemble, obtained enthusiasticsuccess. The populace had come to witness an execution, andhere was an opportunity offered them of performing onethemselves. It was this that must be most agreeable to thepopulace: therefore, they ranged, themselves immediately onthe party of the aggressors against the archers, crying withthe minority, which had become, thanks to them, the mostcompact majority: "Yes, yes: to the fire with the thieves!Vive Colbert!"

"Mordioux!" exclaimed D'Artagnan, "this begins to lookserious."

One of the men who remained near the chimney approached thewindow, a firebrand in his hand. "Ah, ah!" said he, "it getswarm." Then, turning to his companion: "There is thesignal," added he; and he immediately applied the burningbrand to the wainscoting. Now, this cabaret of theImage-de-Notre-Dame was not a very newly-built house, andtherefore did not require much entreating to take fire. In asecond the boards began to crackle, and the flames arosesparkling to the ceiling. A howling from without replied tothe shouts of the incendiaries. D'Artagnan, who had not seenwhat passed, from being engaged at the window, felt, at thesame time, the smoke which choked him and the fire thatscorched him. "Hola!" cried he, turning round, "is the firehere? Are you drunk or mad, my masters?"

The two men looked at each other with an air ofastonishment. "In what?" asked they of D'Artagnan; "was itnot a thing agreed upon?"

"A thing agreed upon that you should burn my house!"vociferated D'Artagnan, snatching the brand from the hand ofthe incendiary, and striking him with it across the face.The second wanted to assist his comrade, but Raoul, seizinghim by the middle, threw him out of the window, whilstD'Artagnan pushed his man down the stairs. Raoul, firstdisengaged, tore the burning wainscoting down, and threw itflaming into the chamber. At a glance D'Artagnan saw therewas nothing to be feared from the fire, and sprang to thewindow. The disorder was at its height. The air was filledwith simultaneous cries of "To the fire!" "To the death!""To the halter!" "To the stake!" "Vive Colbert!" "Vive leroi!" The group which had forced the culprits from the handsof the archers had drawn close to the house, which appearedto be the goal towards which they dragged them. Mennevillewas at the head of this group, shouting louder than all theothers, "To the fire! to the fire! Vive Colbert!" D'Artagnanbegan to comprehend what was meant. They wanted to burn thecondemned, and his house was to serve as a funeral pile.

"Halt, there!" cried he, sword in hand, and one foot uponthe window. "Menneville, what do you want to do?"

"Monsieur d'Artagnan," cried the latter; "give way, giveway!"

"To the fire! to the fire with the thieves! Vive Colbert!"

These cries exasperated D'Artagnan. "Mordioux!" said he."What! burn the poor devils who are only condemned to behung? that is infamous!"

Before the door, however, the mass of anxious spectators,rolled back against the walls, had become more thick, andclosed up the way. Menneville and his men, who were draggingalong the culprits, were within ten paces of the door.

Menneville made a last effort. "Passage! passage!" cried he,pistol in hand.

"Burn them! burn them!" repeated the crowd. "TheImage-de-Notre-Dame is on fire! Burn the thieves! burn themonopolists in the Image-de-Notre-Dame!"

There now remained no doubt, it was plainly D'Artagnan'shouse that was their object. D'Artagnan remembered the oldcry, always so effective from his mouth:

"A moi! mousquetaires!" shouted he, with the voice of agiant, with one of those voices which dominate over cannon,the sea, the tempest. "A moi! mousquetaires!" And suspendinghimself by the arm from the balcony, he allowed himself todrop amidst the crowd, which began to draw back from a housethat rained men. Raoul was on the ground as soon as he, bothsword in hand. All the musketeers on the Place heard thatchallenging cry - all turned round at that cry, andrecognized D'Artagnan. "To the captain, to the captain!"cried they, in their turn. And the crowd opened before themas though before the prow of a vessel. At that momentD'Artagnan and Menneville found themselves face to face."Passage, passage!" cried Menneville, seeing that he waswithin an arm's length of the door.

"No one passes here," said D'Artagnan.

"Take that, then!" said Menneville, firing his pistol,almost within arm's length. But before the cock fell,D'Artagnan had struck up Menneville's arm with the hilt ofhis sword and passed the blade through his body.

"I told you plainly to keep yourself quiet," said D'Artagnanto Menneville, who rolled at his feet.

"Passage! passage!" cried the companions of Menneville, atfirst terrified, but soon recovering, when they found theyhad only to do with two men. But those two men werehundred-armed giants, the swords flew about in their handslike the burning glaive of the archangel. They pierce withits point, strike with the flat, cut with the edge, everystroke brings down a man. "For the king!" cried D'Artagnan,to every man he struck at, that is to say, to every man thatfell. This cry became the charging word for the musketeers,who guided by it, joined D'Artagnan. During this time thearchers, recovering from the panic they had undergone,charge the aggressors in the rear, and regular as millstrokes, overturn or knock down all that oppose them. Thecrowd, which sees swords gleaming, and drops of blood flyingin the air - the crowd falls back and crushes itself. Atlength cries for mercy and of despair resound; that is, thefarewell of the vanquished. The two condemned are again inthe hands of the archers. D'Artagnan approaches them, seeingthem pale and sinking: "Console yourselves, poor men," saidhe, "you will not undergo the frightful torture with whichthese wretches threatened you. The king has condemned you tobe hung: you shall only be hung. Go on, hang them, and itwill be over."

There is no longer anything going on at theImage-de-Notre-Dame. The fire has been extinguished with twotuns of wine in default of water. The conspirators have fledby the garden. The archers were dragging the culprits to thegibbets. From this moment the affair did not occupy muchtime. The executioner, heedless about operating according tothe rules of art, made such haste that he dispatched thecondemned in a couple of minutes. In the meantime the peoplegathered around D'Artagnan, - they felicitated, theycheered him. He wiped his brow, streaming with sweat, andhis sword, streaming with blood. He shrugged his shouldersat seeing Menneville writhing at his feet in the lastconvulsions. And, while Raoul turned away his eyes incompassion, he pointed to the musketeers the gibbets ladenwith their melancholy fruit. "Poor devils!" said he, "I hopethey died blessing me, for I saved them with greatdifficulty." These words caught the ear of Menneville at themoment when he himself was breathing his last sigh. A dark,ironical smile flitted across his lips, he wished to reply,but the effort hastened the snapping of the chord of life - he expired.

"Oh! all this is very frightful!" murmured Raoul: "let usbegone, monsieur le chevalier."

"You are not wounded?" asked D'Artagnan.

"Not at all, thank you."

"That's well! Thou art a brave fellow, mordioux! The head ofthe father, and the arm of Porthos. Ah! if he had been here,good Porthos, you would have seen something worth lookingat." Then as if by way of remembrance -

"But where the devil can that brave Porthos be?" murmuredD'Artagnan.

"Come, chevalier, pray come away," urged Raoul.

"One minute, my friend, let me take my thirty-seven and ahalf pistoles and I am at your service. The house is a goodproperty," added D'Artagnan, as he entered theImage-de-Notre-Dame, "but decidedly, even if it were lessprofitable, I should prefer its being in another quarter."