He saw the great southern gate open before him, no warders by it. Doubtless they were in the city trying to save it from the flames; from the gate itself he saw people issuing, running. Some--among others two old gray-haired people, man and woman--wringing their hands; also a great burly cordelier, his fat face suffused with an oily smile.
"What--what is it?" he cried, reining in his horse. "What fresh horror now?"
"Murder! Cruelty unparalleled!" the old gray-haired man said, his look of terror awful to behold. "Wickedness extreme! Montrevel is there, Julien is there; they have caught the Protestants in the great mill, have barred them in, they can not escape. And they are burning it. All, all must perish."
"Montrevel--Julien--there! It is impossible. They are in the mountains burning the Protestants there!" Martin exclaimed.
"Nay, nay, my son," the greasy monk exclaimed, chiming in, "that was but a heaven-inspired ruse to catch the others in the trap. They are here. They slaughter the heretics, par le fer et par le feu, as Montrevel says. Here! Here! My son, make your way in. Join the good work."
[CHAPTER XXV.]
PAR LE FER ET PAR LE FEU.
He made his way in.
Entered by the Porte des Carmes, to find himself in the midst of a seething mass of people who shouted and gesticulated while pushing each other to and fro, some doing so in their anxiety to escape from out the city, others endeavouring to force themselves farther into it and toward the Canal de la Gau, which was near the gate. A mass of people who seemed infuriated, beyond the bounds of reason, to frenzy, who shouted and screamed, "Au glaive, au glaive avec les héritéques. Kill all! Burn all! Now is the time." While others shrieked, "To the mill, to the mill!" as onward they went in the direction of the canal.
He had put his horse up in a stall behind the gate, tethering it to a peg alongside one or two other animals which, by their trappings, evidently belonged to some dragoons; and now, borne on by the crowd, Martin went the same way, keeping his feet with difficulty yet still progressing, progressing toward where he saw the flames ascending, darting through dense masses of black smoke, roaring as a vast furnace roars. Toward the mill that, all said, was the place which was on fire; the mill in which there were three hundred people--women, children, and old, decrepit, useless men, old, aged Protestants who could not take to the mountains--being burned to death; the mill in which they had been worshipping God in their own fashion.