Now with one accord the people ran to all the doors, slipped back the bolts, and opened them; those waiting without at once thronged into the church with the force and swiftness of the sea across a broken dike.
Duprès, driven before this resistless throng of humanity, darted into the choir and clung to the back of the altar; all Antwerp seemed within the church, and now there was no one to restrain or threaten, to implore or coerce.
The skryer shivered a little; through the open doors of the Sacristy he had a glimpse of frightened priests and treasurers with gold and jewels in their hands; then they cast down the precious objects and fled.
Duprès' blood warmed at the sight of the gold, his eyes glittered.
"Are they going to plunder the church?" he asked himself, and he gazed round the unspeakable splendour of the building with lustful eyes.
An ominous lull, a deadly silence reigned over the crowd, then with sudden fierceness there rose the passionate rhythm of a Protestant psalm breaking harshly on the air that still seemed full of the chantings of the priests and full of echoes of Latin prayers; the strong Flemish words, rising from lusty Flemish throats, sprang forth like a battle-cry, and with a movement that was also like the movement of a battle, a number of men and women threw themselves on the iron cage containing the image of the Virgin.
In an incredibly few minutes the figure was dragged out, torn into shreds, and cast into the air and along the floor.
A deep roar of triumph followed, and Duprès, who could scarcely believe his eyes, saw that they were beginning to destroy everything in the cathedral.
A shiver shook him, a sense of dread and terror, as if he knew he was going to be a witness of something horrible; he cowered down behind the lofty marble group of the Crucifixion which rose so high above the heaving, surging throng.
The sound of blows began to mingle with the staves of the psalms, and the shout of "Long live the beggars!"