“Who are you, young stranger? Be off with you, or you shall share his fate,” cried out a big ruffian; and many of them pressing on, shoved me aside, endeavouring to separate me from their intended victim.
I saw that it was a moment for action,—that should I exhibit the slightest hesitation the life of a worthy man would be sacrificed; and, regardless of the danger I myself ran from the fury of the excited crowd, again dashing forward, I succeeded in reaching Monsieur Planterre, round whom I threw my arms, and held him fast.
“You shall not injure him. Back, all of you!” I shouted. “I will not allow you to destroy an honest man. There must be some mistake. You are not executioners, you are assassins, and are about to commit a deed of which you will repent.”
Notwithstanding what I said, the ruffians still pressed upon us, and attempted to drag Monsieur Planterre away, shouting, “A la lanterne!” but I held him fast.
“My friends,” I cried,—“for I will not call you enemies,—if you hang this man you must hang me, for alive I will not be separated from him, and you will be guilty of the murder of two honest men instead of one.”
As I spoke a reaction suddenly took place; my words had even more effect than I expected on the volatile crowd. One of them rushed forward and removed the rope from Monsieur Planterre’s neck.
“You have saved his life!” cried another.
“You are a brave fellow!” shouted a third. “Long live the noble Englishman! he is worthy of our regard.”
These and similar cries burst from the throats of numbers standing round, and were echoed by the would-be executioners. Before I knew what was about to happen, a number of them, rushing forward, lifted me on their shoulders, and carried me along in triumph, shouting and singing, while Monsieur Planterre’s friends, who had been watching the opportunity, pressing forward, hurried him away in another direction. To my infinite satisfaction, I saw him carried off, while I was borne along by the crowd, who shouted and sang in my praise until their voices were hoarse.
I thought it wise to submit to the honours paid me; at the same time I could not tell at what moment the feelings of the fickle mob might change, and perhaps they might carry me to the lanterne instead of the man I had rescued. I made the best of my position, and kept bowing to the mob right and left, expressing my admiration for France and Frenchmen in the most glowing terms I could command.