entrenched behind piles
of books, busily engaged in tearing and slashing away at the _Lucretius_
of the Prior de Vendome annotated in Voltaire's own hand. They had to
force a way through the barricade. But the maniac, perceiving that his
stronghold was being invaded, fled away and escaped on to the roof. For
two whole hours he gave vent to shouts and yells that were heard far and
wide. In the Rue Garanciere the crowd kept growing bigger and bigger.
All had their eyes fixed on the unhappy creature, and whenever he
stumbled on the slates, which cracked beneath him, they gave a shout of
terror. In the midst of the crowd, the Abbe Patouille, who expected
every moment to see him hurled into space, was reciting the prayers for
the dying, and making ready to give him the absolution _in extremis_.
There was a cordon of police round the house keeping order. Someone
summoned the fire-brigade, and the sound of their approach was soon
heard. They placed a ladder against the wall of the house, and after a
terrific struggle managed to secure the maniac, who in the course of his
desperate resistance had one of the muscles of his arm torn out. He was
immediately removed to an asylum.

Maurice dined at home, and there were smiles of tenderness and affection
when Victor, the old butler, brought on the roast veal. Monsieur l'Abbe
Patouille sat at the right hand of the Christian mother, unctuously
contemplating the family which Heaven had so plentifully blessed.
Nevertheless, Madame d'Esparvieu was ill at ease. Every day she received
anonymous letters of so insulting and coarse a nature that she thought
at first they must come from a discharged footman. She now knew they
were the handiwork of her youngest daughter, Berthe, a mere child!
Little Leon, too, gave her pain and anxiety. He paid no attention to his
lessons, and was given to bad habits. He showed a cruel disposition. He
had plucked his sister's canaries alive; he stuck innumerable pins into
the chair on which Mademoiselle Caporal was accustomed to sit, and had
stolen fourteen francs from the poor girl, who did nothing but cry and
dab her eyes and nose from morning till night.

No sooner was dinner over than Maurice rushed off to the little
dwelling in the Rue de Rome, impatient to meet his angel again. Through
the door he heard a loud sound of voices, and saw assembled in the room
where the apparition had taken place, Arcade, Zita, the angelic
musician, and the Kerub, who was ly