"Woe to the vanquished!"
[CHAPTER XIII.]
DOWN IN THE DUNGEONS.
While the multitude poured, roaring with delight and anger at the same time, into the yards of the prison, two men were floundering in the ditch: Billet and Pitou. The latter was keeping up the other whom no bullet or blow had struck, but the fall had a trifle stunned him. Ropes were thrown to them and poles thrust down.
In five minutes they were rescued, and were hugged and carried in triumph, muddy though they were.
One gave Billet a drink of brandy, another crammed the younger peasant with bread and sausage. A third dried them off and led them into the sunshine.
Suddenly an idea or rather a memory crossed the good farmer's mind: he tore himself from the friendly arms and ran towards the fort.
"The prisoners, help the prisoners!" he shouted.
"Yes, the prisoners," repeated Pitou, darting into the tower after his leader.