Gabriel understood the fierce determination that animated those men. His endeavours to restrain them were useless. Mariano seized him, seeing he was trying to push between them and the altar.
"Stand aside, little one," he said. "You are no use for anything. Let us alone. Are you afraid of the Virgin? Undeceive yourself, even if we carry off all she has, she will work no miracle."
Gabriel attempted one final effort.
"You shall do nothing. If you pass the railings, if you approach the high altar, I will ring the call bell, and before ten minutes all Toledo will be at the gates."
And opening the iron gate of the choir, he entered with a decision that surprised the bell-ringer.
The shoemaker in tipsy silence was the only one who followed him.
"My children's bread!" he murmured in thickened speech. "They wish to rob them! They wish to keep them poor!"
Mariano heard a metallic clatter, and saw the shoemaker raise his hand armed with the bunch of keys which had fallen on the marble steps of the railing, then he heard a strangely sonorous sound, as if something hollow was being struck.
Gabriel gave one scream, and fell forwards on the ground; the shoemaker continued striking his head.
"Do not give him any more—stop!"