A cold sweat stood upon the brow of Bagsby, his knees knocked together, and he leaned the whole weight of his body upon my arm, as I interpreted to him the demand of Jupiter.
“Say any thing you like,” muttered he; “it will all come to the same thing at last!”
“The citizen consents, most venerable President.”
“Then nothing remains but to put the same question to the citoyenne,” said Potard. “Who appears as the father of the bride?”
“Chûte de la Bastille! that do I,” cried Destripes.
“Citizen Destripes, do you of your own free will and accord—”
Here a thundering rap was heard at the door.
“What is that?” cried Destripes starting back. “Some one has passed the barricade!”
“In the name of the Provisional Government!” cried a loud voice. The door was flung open, and to my inexpressible joy, I beheld the Count of Monte-Christo, backed by a large detachment of the National Guard.
“Treason! treachery!” shouted Destripes. “Ah, villain, thou hast neglected thy post!” and he fetched a tremendous blow with his axe at the head of Gratte-les-rues. It was fortunate for that chief that his helmet was of excellent temper, otherwise he must have been cloven to the chin. As it was, he staggered backwards and fell.