CHAPTER IV. THE WOLVES AND THE DEVOURERS.
It was a frightful thing to view the approach of the lawless crowd,whose first act of hostility had been so fatal to Marshal Simon'sfather. One wing of the Common Dwelling-house, which joined thegarden-wall on that side, was next to the fields. It was there that theWolves began their attack. The precipitation of their march, the haltthey had made at two public-houses on the road, their ardent impatiencefor the approaching struggle, had inflamed these men to a high pitch ofsavage excitement. Having discharged their first shower of stones, mostof the assailants stooped down to look for more ammunition. Some ofthem, to do so with greater ease, held their bludgeons between theirteeth; others had placed them against the wall; here and there, groupshad formed tumultuously round the principal leaders of the band; themost neatly dressed of these men wore frocks, with caps, whilstothers were almost in rags, for, as we have already said, many of thehangers-on at the barriers, and people without any profession, hadjoined the troop of the Wolves, whether welcome or not. Some hideouswomen, with tattered garments, who always seem to follow in the track ofsuch people, accompanied them on this occasion, and, by their cries andfury, inflamed still more the general excitement. One of them, tall,robust, with purple complexion, blood shot eyes, and toothless jaws,had a handkerchief over her head, from beneath which escaped her yellow,frowsy hair. Over her ragged gown, she wore an old plaid shawl, crossedover her bosom, and tied behind her back. This hag seemed possessedwith a demon. She had tucked up her half-torn sleeves; in one handshe brandished a stick, in the other she grasped a huge stone; hercompanions called her Ciboule (scullion).
This horrible hag exclaimed, in a hoarse voice: "I'll bite the women ofthe factory; I'll make them bleed."
The ferocious words were received with applause by her companions, andwith savage cries of "Ciboule forever!" which excited her to frenzy.
Amongst the other leaders, was a small, dry pale man, with the face ofa ferret, and a black beard all round the chin; he wore a scarlet Greekcap, and beneath his long blouse, perfectly new, appeared a pair of neatcloth trousers, strapped over thin boots. This man was evidently of adifferent condition of life from that of the other persons in the troop;it was he, in particular, who ascribed the most irritating and insultinglanguage to the workmen of the factory, with regard to the inhabitantsof the neighborhood. He howled a great deal, but he carried neitherstick nor stone. A full-faced, fresh-colored man, with a formidable bassvoice, like a chorister's, asked him: "Will you not have a shot at thoseimpious dogs, who might bring down the Cholera on the country, as thecurate told us?"
"I will have a better shot than you," said the little man, with asingular, sinister smile.
"And with what, I'd like to see?"
"Probably, with this," said the little man, stooping to pick up alarge stone; but, as he bent, a well-filled though light bag, which heappeared to carry under his blouse, fell to the ground.
"Look, you are losing both bag and baggage," said the other; "it doesnot seem very heavy."
"They are samples of wool," answered the man with the ferret's face, ashe hastily picked up the bag, and replaced it under his blouse; then headded: "Attention! the big blaster is going to speak."
And, in fact, he who exercised the most complete ascendency over thisirritated crowd was the terrible quarryman. His gigantic form toweredso much above the multitude, that his great head, bound in its raggedhandkerchief, and his Herculean shoulders, covered with a fallow goatskin, were always visible above the level of that dark and swarmingcrowd, only relieved here and there by a few women's caps, like so manywhite points. Seeing to what a degree of exasperation the minds of thecrowd had reached, the small number of honest, but misguided workmen,who had allowed themselves to be drawn into this dangerous enterprise,under the pretext of a quarrel between rival unions, now fearing for theconsequences of the struggle, tried, but too late, to abandon the mainbody. Pressed close, and as it were, girt in with the more hostilegroups, dreading to pass for cowards, or to expose themselves to the badtreatment of the majority, they were forced to wait for a morefavorable moment to effect their escape. To the savage cheers, whichhad accompanied the first discharge of stones, succeeded a deep silencecommanded by the stentorian voice of the quarryman.
"The Wolves have howled," he exclaimed; "let us wait and see how theDevourers will answer, and when they will begin the fight."
"We must draw them out of their factory, and fight them on neutralground," said the little man with the ferret's face, who appeared to bethe thieves' advocate; "otherwise there would be trespass."
"What do we care about trespass?" cried the horrible hag, Ciboule; "inor out, I will tear the chits of the factory."
"Yes, yes," cried other hideous creatures, as ragged as Ciboule herself;"we must not leave all to the men."
"We must have our fun, too!"
"The women of the factory say that all the women of the neighborhood aredrunken drabs," cried the little man with the ferret's face.
"Good! we'll pay them for it."
"The women shall have their share."
"That's our business."
"They like to sing in their Common House," cried Ciboule; "we will makethem sing the wrong side of their mouths, in the key of 'Oh, dear me!'"
This pleasantry was received with shouts, hootings, and furious stampingof feet, to which the stentorian voice of the quarryman put a term byroaring: "Silence!"
"Silence! silence!" repeated the crowd. "Hear the blaster!"
"If the Devourers are cowards enough not to dare to show themselves,after a second volley of stones, there is a door down there which we canbreak open, and we will soon hunt them from their holes."
"It would be better to draw them out, so that none might remain in thefactory," said the little old man with the ferret's face, who appearedto have some secret motive.
"A man fights where he can," cried the quarryman, in a voice of thunder;"all, right, if we can but once catch hold. We could fight on a slopingroof, or on the top of a wall--couldn't we, my Wolves?"
"Yes, yes!" cried the crowd, still more excited by those savage words;"if they don't come out, we will break in."
"We will see their fine palace!"
"The pagans haven't even a chapel," said the bass voice. "The curate hasdamned them all!"
"Why should they have a palace, and we nothing but dog-kennels?"
"Hardy's workmen say that kennels are good enough for such as you." saidthe little man with the ferret's face.
"Yes, yes! they said so."
"We'll break all their traps."
"We'll pull down their bazaar."
"We'll throw the house out of the windows."
"When we have made the mealy-mouthed chits sing," cried Ciboule, "wewill make them dance to the clatter of stones on their heads."
"Come, my Wolves! attention!" cried the quarryman, still in the samestentorian voice; "one more volley, and if the Devourers do not comeout, down with the door!"
This proposition was received with cheers of savage ardor, and thequarryman, whose voice rose above the tumult, cried with all thestrength of his herculean lungs: "Attention, my Wolves. Make ready! alltogether. Now, are you ready?"
"Yes, yes--all ready!"
"Then, present!--fire!" And, for the second time, a shower of enormousstones poured upon that side of the Common Dwelling-house which wasturned towards the fields. A part of these projectiles broke such of thewindows as had been spared by the first volley. To the sharp smashingand cracking of glass were joined the ferocious cries uttered in chorusby this formidable mob, drunk with its own excesses: "Death to theDevourers!"
Soon these outcries became perfectly frantic, when, through the brokenwindows, the assailants perceived women running in terror, some withchildren in their arms, and others raising their hands to heaven,calling aloud for help; whilst a few, bolder than the rest, leaned outof the windows, and tried to fasten the outside blinds.
"There come the ants out of t
heir holes!" cried Ciboule, stooping topick up a stone. "We must have a fling at them for luck!" The stone,hurled by the steady, masculine hand of the virago, went straight to itsmark, and struck an unfortunate woman who was trying to close one of theshutters.
"Hit in the white!" cried the hideous creature.
"Well done, Ciboule!--you've rapped her coker-nut!" cried a voice.
"Ciboule forever!"
"Come out, you Devourers, if you dare!"
"They have said a hundred times, that the neighbors were too cowardlyeven to come and look at their house," squealed the little man with theferret's face.
"And now they show the white feather!"
"If they will not come out," cried the quarryman, in voice of thunder,"let us smoke them out!"
"Yes, yes!"
"Let's break open the door!"
"We are sure to find them!"
"Come on! come on!"
The crowd, with the quarryman at their head, and Ciboule not far fromhim, brandishing a stick, advanced tumultously towards one of the greatdoors. The ground shook beneath the rapid tread of the mob, which hadnow ceased shouting; but the confused, and, as it were, subterraneousnoise, sounded even more ominous than those savage outcries. The Wolvessoon arrived opposite the massive oaken door. At the moment the blasterraised a sledgehammer, the door opened suddenly. Some of the mostdetermined of the assailants were about to rush in at this entrance; butthe quarryman stepped back, extending his arm as if to moderate theirardor and impose silence. Then his followers gathered round him.
The half-open door discovered a party of workmen, unfortunately by nomeans numerous, but with countenances full of resolution. They had armedthemselves hastily with forks, iron bars, and clubs. Agricola, who wastheir leader, held in his hand a heavy sledge-hammer. The young workmanwas very pale; but the fire of his eye, his menacing look, and theintrepid assurance of his bearing, showed that his father's bloodboiled in his veins, and that in such a struggle he might becomefear-inspiring. Yet he succeeded in restraining himself, and challengedthe quarryman, in a firm voice: "What do you want?"
"A fight!" thundered the blaster.
"Yes, yes! a fight!" repeated the crowd.
"Silence, my Wolves!" cried the quarryman, as he turned round, andstretched forth his large hand towards the multitude. Then addressingAgricola, he said: "The Wolves have come to ask for a fight."
"With whom?"
"With the Devourers."
"There are no Devourers here," replied Agricola; "we are only peaceableworkmen. So begone."
"Well! here are the Wolves, that will eat your quiet workmen."
"The Wolves will eat no one here," said Agricola, looking full at thequarryman, who approached him with a threatening air; "they can onlyfrighten little children."
"Oh! you think so," said the quarryman, with a savage sneer. Thenraising his weapon, he shook it in Agricola's face, exclaiming: "Is thatany laughing matter?
"Is that?" answered Agricola, with a rapid movement, parrying the stonesledge with his own hammer.
"Iron against iron--hammer against hammer--that suits me," said thequarryman.
"It does not matter what suits you," answered Agricola, hardly able torestrain himself. "You have broken our windows, frightened our women,and wounded--perhaps killed--the oldest workman in the factory, who atthis moment lies bleeding in the arms of his son." Here Agricola's voicetrembled in spite of himself. "It is, I think, enough."
"No; the Wolves are hungry for more," answered the blaster; "you mustcome out (cowards that you are!), and fight us on the plain."
"Yes! yes! battle!--let them come out!" cried the crowd, howling,hissing, waving their sticks and pushing further into the small spacewhich separated them from the door.
"We will have no battle," answered Agricola: "we will not leave ourhome; but if you have the misfortune to pass this," said Agricola,throwing his cap upon the threshold, and setting his foot on it with anintrepid air, "if you pass this, you attack us in our own house, and youwill be answerable for all that may happen."
"There or elsewhere we will have the fight! the Wolves must eat theDevourers. Now for the attack!" cried the fierce quarryman, raising hishammer to strike Agricola.
But the latter, throwing himself on one side by a sudden leap, avoidedthe blow, and struck with his hammer full at the chest of the quarryman,who staggered for a moment, but instantly recovering his legs, rushedfuriously on Agricola, crying: "Follow me, Wolves!"