He left the barricade.
Pierre Tissié had only his knife with him, a Catalan knife; he opened it at all hazards, he held it in his hand, and went on straight before him.
As he came out of the Rue Saint Sauveur, he saw at the corner of a little lonely street, in which all the windows were closed, a soldier of the line standing sentry, posted there doubtlessly by the main guard at a little distance.
This soldier was at the halt with his gun to his shoulder ready to fire.
He heard the step of Pierre Tissié, and cried out,—
"Who goes there?"
"Death!" answered Pierre Tissié.
The soldier fired, and missed Pierre Tissié, who sprang on him, and struck him down with a blow of his knife.
The soldier fell, and blood spurted out of his mouth.
"I did not know I should speak so truly," muttered Pierre Tissié.