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"Hardy's workmen say that kennels are good enough for such as you." said the 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, "we will make them dance to the clatter of stones on their heads."
Furious with rage, Ciboule rose again almost instantly; but at this moment, several workmen, who had followed close upon Agricola, were able to attack with advantage, and whilst the smith lifted the fainting form of Angela, and carried her into the next room, Ciboule and her band were driven from that part of the house.
The tall form of the quarryman was conspicuous amongst the rest; with inflamed eyes and swollen features, he yelled at the top of his voice: "Death to the body-snatchers! they poison the people." "That is easier than to feed them," added Ciboule.
Ciboule and the quarryman went before, crying: "Wake way for the corpse! This is how they poison the people!" A fresh incident now attracted the attention of the crowd.
A door, which at first resisted their efforts, was soon broken through; Ciboule rushed into the apartment with a stick in her hand, her hair dishevelled, furious, and, as it were, maddened with the noise and tumult.
"Make way for the omnibus of the departed!" cried Ciboule. "No danger of having one's toes crushed in that omnibus," said the quarryman. "Doubtless they're easy to please, the stiff-uns in there." "They never want to be set down, at all events." "I say, there's only one reg'lar on duty as postilion!" "That's true, the leaders are driven by a man in a smock-frock." "Oh!
Angela, struggling with Ciboule, uttered loud cries of distress, and still attempted to guard the room in which her mother had taken refuge; whilst the latter, leaning from the window, called Agricola to their assistance. The smith was now engaged with the huge blaster.
During this manoeuvre the quarryman, Ciboule, and others, advanced towards Gabriel, exclaiming, with ferocious joy: "This time we have him. Death to the poisoner!" To save Father d'Aigrigny, Gabriel would have allowed himself to be massacred at the entrance of the choir; but, a little further on, the railing, not above four feet in height, would in another instant be scaled or broken through.
Yielding to the powerful influence of the words and example of Gabriel, they felt themselves deeply moved, and each became anxious to offer services. "Mr. Curate, he would perhaps be better on a chair, that one could carry upright," said Ciboule. "Shall I go and fetch a stretcher from the hospital?" asked another. "Mr. Curate, let me take your place; the body is too heavy for you."
The tall form of the quarryman was conspicuous amongst the rest; with inflamed eyes and swollen features, he yelled at the top of his voice: "Death to the body-snatchers! they poison the people." "That is easier than to feed them," added Ciboule.
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