Then suddenly an ominous stillness prevails, and for half a minute not a movement is made among the frightened people who are watching the spectacle from a neighboring cottage. But an unearthly bellowing breaks the brief silence, and with heads erect and glittering eyes the cattle madly paw the ground, upturning stones and tearing up the earth until thick, blinding clouds of dust obscure the landscape. Who now can doubt the danger? The merciless sun goads the herd to frenzy.
Fadard, intoxicated but still prudent, followed by Andoche, approaches the door of the cabaret[A] where they have been dawdling. A cloud of hot dust fills their eyes and nostrils, and they gladly seek refuge within.
At the same moment the distracted beasts make another dash. Like demons they career about the market-place, trampling upon and killing each other in their desperate struggle to reach the exit gates. Through these they plunge and go tearing along the highway, the earth seeming to tremble beneath their feet. The little booths by the wayside are far from safe. A part of Andoche’s jacket is carried away impaled upon the horn of a bull which has dashed against the wall of the cabaret. Consternation fills the hearts of the villagers. All who have dear ones abroad on the road or in the fields are pale with anguish. Children, too, are missing, and the suspense is heart-breaking. What will be the sequel? They hardly dare look out to see if the storm and fury have at all abated.
Under a cart-shed at the end of the market-place stands a huddled group of men. They await the end. Suddenly a little child, about two years old, runs out of a wood-chopper’s house and starts across the road along which a part of the herd is still rushing like a whirlwind.
“He will be killed!” yelled some one, as a young heifer racing forward just overleaps the boy.
But a special providence seems to protect children, and for the nonce the little fellow escapes. He miraculously reaches the shed unharmed. There is not a man in the cart-shed who is not thrilled with the desire to go and save other little ones from certain death. To be sure, many sit rooted to the spot, lacking the courage to move; but not all of them are cowards.
Just as a young girl ventures to cross the road, an enormous bull comes thundering along. She is in imminent peril. Who will attempt an heroic act of rescue? A sickening fear seizes the spectators. Onward course the foaming animals, following in the dusty wake of their formidable leader.
Not an instant too soon some one rushes out of a neighboring cottage and, clasping the young girl in his arms, prepares to shield her from the oncoming cattle. His presence of mind is remarkable; but no time is left for escape, for the herd is upon him. He makes one more effective move—he hurls the little maid into a clump of rushes, where she falls heavily, but beyond the pale of danger. He rolls under the trampling hoofs, and the whole battalion of beasts passes over the body of one who has attempted the impossible. What a terrible sight! He is crushed and bruised, but they expect to find him a shapeless mass.
“Who is he?” shout a hundred or more people nearly in unison.
“I believe he is Bruno Volane,” answers a peasant of Trinquelin.