“Help! help! for Master Broussel, who is arrested because he has defended the people! Help!”
Comminges seized the servant around the waist and would have dragged her from her post; but at that instant a treble voice, proceeding from a kind of entresol, was heard screeching:
“Murder! fire! assassins! Master Broussel is being killed! Master Broussel is being strangled.”
It was Friquet’s voice; and Dame Nanette, feeling herself supported, recommenced with all her strength to sound her shrilly squawk.
Many curious faces had already appeared at the windows and the people attracted to the end of the street began to run, first men, then groups, and then a crowd of people; hearing cries and seeing a chariot they could not understand it; but Friquet sprang from the entresol on to the top of the carriage.
“They want to arrest Master Broussel!” he cried; “the guards are in the carriage and the officer is upstairs!”
The crowd began to murmur and approached the house. The two guards who had remained in the lane mounted to the aid of Comminges; those who were in the chariot opened the doors and presented arms.
“Don’t you see them?” cried Friquet, “don’t you see? there they are!”
The coachman turning around, gave Friquet a slash with his whip which made him scream with pain.
“Ah! devil’s coachman!” cried Friquet, “you’re meddling too! Wait!”