w on fire, you must put a stop to it. The
gutter will defend you against their fire, they cannot see you, but when
they start a blaze, you can accurately aim at each one. That is what I
wanted to say."

"Very well," said Lorand, taking his cartridges from his gun-case.

"You'd better use shot instead of bullets," remarked Topandy. "It's
easier to hit with shot when one is shooting in the dark, especially in
the case of a large company. A little _sang froid_, my boy--you know:
all of life is a play."

Lorand grasped the old man's hand and hurried up to the garret.

There in the dark he could only feel his way. For a long time he
wandered aimlessly about, striking matches to discover his whereabouts,
until he came upon the attic window, which he raised with his head and
so came out on the roof.

Then he slid down softly on his stomach as far as the gutter.

Below him the ball was in progress. The thunder of crowbars, the
cracking of panels, the strong blows dealt to the tune of oaths; fresh
oaths, thunder, pole-axe blows upon the wall. The robbers, unable to
break in the doors, were trying to dislodge their posts.

And in the distance no noise, no sign of help. The cowardly neighbors,
shutting themselves in, were crouching in their own houses: nor could
one blame unarmed men for not coming to the rescue. A gun is a terrible
menace.

Silence reigned in the servants' hall. They too dared not come out.
Courage is not for poor men.

In the whole courtyard there were but two men who had stout hearts in
their bosoms.

The third courageous heart was that of a girl, who lay wounded.

As he thought of this, Lorand became the victim of an excited passion.
He felt his head swimming: he felt that he could not remain there, for
sooner or later he must leap down.

Leap down!

An idea occurred to him. A difficult feat, but once thought out, it
could be accomplished.

He scrambled up the roof again: cut away one of those long dry ropes
which in the garrets of many houses stretch from one rafter to another,
tied to one end of it the weight of an old clock lying idle in the
attic, and returned again to the roof.

Not far from the house there stood an old sycamore tree: one of its
spreading branches bent so near to the house that Lorand could certainly
reach it by a cast of the rope. The lead-weighted rope, like a lasso,
swung over and around the branch and fastened itself on it firmly.

Lorand looped the other end of t