The effervescence had reached the boiling point: the soldiers brandished their weapons furiously, while directing the most furious threats at the captain and his lieutenants. Suddenly the door opened, and the count appeared. He was pale, but calm. He took a quiet look at the mutinous band that howled around him.
"The captain! Here is the captain!" the troopers shouted.
"Kill him!" others went on.
"Down with him, down with him!" they howled in chorus.
All rushed upon him, brandishing weapons and offering insults. But the count did not give way; on the contrary, he advanced a step. He held in his mouth a fine husk cigarette, from which he puffed the smoke with the utmost serenity.
Nothing imposes on masses like cold and unaffected courage. There was a pause in the revolt. The captain and his men examined each other, like two tigers measuring their strength ere bounding forward. The count profited by the moment of silence he had obtained to take the word.
"What do you want?" he asked calmly, while withdrawing his cigarette from his mouth, and following the light cloud of bluish smoke as it rose in spirals in the sky.
At this question of their captain's the charm was broken; the shouts and yells recommenced with even greater intensity; the rebels were angry with themselves for having allowed their chief's firmness momentarily to overawe them. All spoke at once. They surrounded the count on all sides, pulling him in every direction, to force him to listen to them. The count, pressed and hustled by all these rogues, who had thrown discipline overboard, and were sure of impunity in a country where justice only nominally exists, did not lose his countenance—his coolness remained the same. He allowed these men to yell at their ease for some moments, their eyes bloodshot, and foam on their lips; and when he considered this had lasted long enough, he said, in a voice as calm and tranquil as on the first occasion:—
"My friends, it is impossible for us to go on talking in this way: I understand nothing of what you say. Choose one of your comrades to make your complaints in your name. If they are just, I will do you justice; but be calm."
After uttering these words the count leaned his shoulder against the door, crossed his arms on his chest, and began smoking again, apparently indifferent to what was going on around him. The calmness and firmness displayed by the count from the beginning of this scene had already borne their fruit: he had regained numerous partisans among his soldiers. These men, though they dared not yet openly avow the sympathy they felt with their chief, warmly supported the proposition he had made them.