Inflamed with liquor and lust, Jacques soon decided to carry out his purpose.
“Come with me, my little beauty!”
Mother Frochard chuckled at the sight of him mastering her. Struggle wildly as the poor blind creature would to avoid his grip, he was dragging her slowly to the stair while her screams were stifled by one rough hand over her mouth.
But as he was doing this, the huddled figure rose. “I have been a coward long enough,” said Pierre. “Don’t touch her!” laying a restraining hand on Jacques’ arm.
Astonished, Jacques turned. “Who’ll 126 stop me?” He flung his brother prostrate half way across the room.
The cripple had risen again. A dirk gleamed in his extended hand. His eyes blazed like coals. Fury distorted his features which were craned forward in hideous ugliness parallel with the knife.
“I will!”
“You misbegotten hunchback!” roared Jacques, letting loose of the girl and drawing his own knife. “She is mine. I tell you I will kill anyone who interferes with me!”
La Frochard tried to throw herself between the brothers. Louise groped away, and as by instinct found refuge behind Pierre. Jacques pushed the hag aside, saying savagely: “Let me look after this!”
Each brother stripped off his coat, holding it as a buckler whilst the right hand gripped a knife.