“It’s a poor alternative,” he said, shortly, flashing a last glance at the actress. “But it’s the best that offers!”
So saying, he sprang upon the balcony––none too soon, for a moment later the door burst open and an incongruous element rushed into the room. Many were attired in outlandish head-dresses, embroidered moccasins and fringed jackets, their faces painted in various hues, but others, of a bolder spirit, had disdained all subterfuge of disguise. Not until then did the soldier discover that he had overlooked the possible unpleasantness of remaining in the land baron’s stead, for the anti-renters promptly threw themselves upon him, regardless of his companion. The first to grapple with him was a herculean, thick-ribbed man, of extraordinary stature, taller than the soldier, if not so well-knit; a Goliath, indeed, as Scroggs had deemed him, with arms long as windmills.
“Stand back, lads,” he roared, “and let me throw him!” And Dick, the tollman, rushed at Saint-Prosper with furious attack; soon they were chest to chest, each with his chin on his opponent’s right shoulder, and each grasping the other around the body with joined hands.
Dick’s muscles grew taut, like mighty whip-cords; his chest expanded with power; he girded his loins for a great effort, and it seemed as if he would make good his boast. Held in the grasp of those arms, tight as iron bands, the soldier staggered. Once more the other heaved and again Saint-Prosper nearly fell, his superior agility alone saving him.
Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, the soldier managed to face to the right, twisting so as to place his left hip against his adversary––his only chance; a trick of wrestling unknown to his herculean, but clumsy opponent. Gathering all his strength in a last determined effort, he stooped forward suddenly and lifted in his turn. One portentous moment––a moment of doubt and suspense––and the proud representative of the barn-burners was hurled over the shoulder of the soldier, landing with a crash on the floor where he lay, dazed and immovable.
Breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with labored effort, Saint-Prosper fell back against the wall. The anti-renters quickly recovering from their surprise, gave him no time to regain his strength, and the contest promised a speedy and disastrous conclusion for the soldier, when suddenly a white figure flashed before him, confronting the tenants with pale face and shining eyes. A slender obstacle; only a girlish form, yet the fearlessness of her manner, the eloquence of her glance––for her lips were silent!––kept them back for the instant.
But fiercer passions were at work among them, the desire for retaliation and bitter hatred of the patroon, which speedily dissipated any feeling of compunction or any tendency to waver,