“I must,” said the young man. “I think that my leg is broken.”
“Réné, Réné! I pray, I implore you, my friend—my brother—run for a surgeon!”
“Immediately!” said I, dashing out into the street.
But it was impossible to move.
The crowd had become something fearful.
“Hussars!” cried M. de Goguelot, “are you for the King or the nation?”
They all replied, “For the nation!”
“The others?”
“For the King—for the King!” they cried out, in German.
“Do you hear them?” said M. Drouet. “They are strangers—they are Germans—that is to say, enemies.”