the adjacent streets, that vague hubbub whose chaotic voice
sounds so terrifying in the ears of the faint-hearted, who know not
whether it is an alarm of fire or a hue and cry after a murderer.

On the present occasion, however, there was both fire and murder in the
sound--it was a riot.

In a distant part of the town some over-zealous guardians of public
order had set ringing the alarm-bells, whose strident semi-tones rose
above the low hideous murmur of the mob.

The General hastened into the courtyard. The soldiers were already
standing there under arms.

There was scarcely more than two hundred men there, the rest were a long
way off, forming part of the far-stretching military cordon.

This, however, was quite enough for Vertessy's purpose.

What had he to fear? It was impossible to conceive that the honest
scythe and saddle makers of the town, the peaceful citizens who had only
to do with planes and awls and shuttles, would dare to attack him
forcibly and compel him to retire before them.

Swiftly, but with the utmost _sang froid_, he made his preparations.

Half a battalion took up a position outside the gate guarding every
approach, the rest remained within the courtyard.

The rifles of the soldiers outside the gate remained unloaded.

At three rolls of a drum the remaining column also marched out into the
street.

A single word of command would suffice for subsequent tactics.

It was also considered necessary to close the gates of the neighbouring
house, and two sentries were posted outside it with loaded muskets.

All this was done in the most perfect order, there was no hurry, no
bustle.

In that house opposite dwelt the General's wife; one could reach it from
the barracks across a garden.

Vertessy had just completed his preparations when Cornelia's maid came
hastening up to him and whispered something in his ear.

For a moment a smile of delight flashed across the General's face, which
immediately afterwards, however, formed into still darker folds than
before.

Hastily transferring the command to his first lieutenant, he hastened to
his dwelling, promising to be back in a moment.

It must indeed have been a matter of importance to have constrained
Vertessy to quit the post becoming a soldier at such a moment.

He hastened as fast as he could go to his wife's bedchamber.

The curtains had been let down, in the semi-obscure alcove lay a pale
woman, seemingly a corpse which, neverthel