And with these words Raimond V. aimed a terrible blow full in the breast. Pog avoided the blow by a quick movement in retreat, but his arm was run through.
“I am a Frenchman, like you,” cried the renegade, with a brutal sneer, “and it is French blood for which I thirst! That your death may be more bitter, know that your daughter is in my power!”
At these terrible words, the baron stood for a moment, bewildered.
Pog profited by his inaction to strike him a terrible blow on the head with his battle-axe. The baron’s helmet had already been broken; he staggered a moment like a drunken man, then fell unconscious.
“Another one of these Provençal bulls killed!” cried Pog, brandishing his battle-axe.
“Let us avenge our lord!” cried the people of Raimond V., hurling themselves at the pirates with such fury that they drove them back into the little street which led to the port.
Soon, reinforced by the sailors who had been besieged in the town hall, and whom the attack of Raimond V. had just delivered, they had such a decided advantage over the pirates, that the trumpets of the latter sounded a retreat.
At this signal, a part of the brigands formed in good order in the middle of the square, under the command of Pog. Then they made a vigorous resistance so as to give the other pirates time to transport their booty on board the galleys, and to drag to these vessels the men and women they had captured.
Remaining master of the position that he had defended, Pog covered the entrance of the little street leading to the port, and thus assured the retreat of the band of Trimalcyon, occupied in dragging the captives on board the galleys.
Pog, yielding the ground to his enemies, foot by foot, fell back into the little street, sure that his communication with the port and the galleys could not be intercepted, and that he could effect his reëmbarkation without danger. The street was so narrow that twenty determined men could defend it against ten times the number.