In an instant the fédérés on guard hurled themselves upon Jean; he could feel the cold muzzles of revolvers at his temples and hear rifles banging off at random in the ante-room.
The Colonel was raving in the frenzy of alcoholic delirium, writhing in horrible convulsions and yelling: "He has killed me! he has murdered me!"
"He has murdered the Colonel," the fédérés took up the cry.
"He has poisoned him. Take him before the court martial."
"Shoot him right away. He's an assassin; the Versaillais have sent him."
"Off with him to the lock-up!"
Servien's denials and struggles were in vain. Again and again he protested:
"You can see for yourselves he's drunk and asleep!"
"Listen to him—he is insulting the sovereign people."
"Pitch him in the river!"
"Swing him on a lamp-post."