On the steps the crowd grappled with the soldiers for the victim; they were thrust this way and that way; they were tripped up; they were blinded by their hats being drawn over their eyes.
Foremost was the plaster-cast maker. He gave a great shout,—his hand was on Berthier's collar.
The next to seize him was the doctor.
'Where is my daughter?' asked the old man, in a scream.
The prisoner did not answer.
'Don't kill him!' shrieked the doctor, as the young man smote at him. 'Spare him till he has told me where my little daughter is. My darling Veronique, where is she? Tell me, Berthier, tell me.' He shook him violently.
'Give me back my Antoinette!' screamed the hag who had accused him in the hall.
'Sacré, let me go!' cried Berthier, struggling with the plaster-cast dealer.
'Answer me, man, for the death of my friend Matthias André!' exclaimed Étienne Percenez, leaping at his throat.