Brave when it was a single unarmed man, the mob broke and ran like frightened sheep at the sight of the advancing cavalry.
In the mean time myriads of omnibuses, vans, carriages, and vehicles of all descriptions, having been blocked by a similar mob in the narrow Rue Royale and at the Pont de la Concorde in the other direction, now became tangled in an apparently inextricable mass in the middle square.
The individual members of the crowd broke for this cover, while the agents dashed among them to make arrests. Men scrambled under omnibuses and wagons, leaped through carriages, dodged between wheels, climbed over horses, crept on their hands and knees beneath vans.
Fouchette ran like a rabbit, but between the rush of police and scattering of the mob she was sorely hustled. She finally sprang into an open voiture in the jam, and wisely remained there in spite of the driver's furious gesticulations.
"This way!" cried a stalwart young student to his fleeing companions.
The agents were hot upon them.
Fouchette saw that they were covered with dirt, and one was hatless. And this one glared at her as he dodged beneath the horse.
The next vehicle was pulled up short, as if to close the narrow passage, whereat the hatless man shook his fist at the driver and cursed him.
"Vive la liberté!" retorted the driver.
"So! We'll give you liberty, you cur!" and the hatless man called to his nearest companion, "Over with him!"