e ranks closed firmly in and a kind of majestic tremor ran from man to
man.

At the Barriere des Sergents the procession was obliged to stop.
Comminges left the head of the escort and went to the queen's carriage.
Anne questioned D'Artagnan by a look. He answered in the same language.

"Proceed," she said.

Comminges returned to his post. An effort was made and the living
barrier was violently broken through.

Some complaints arose from the crowd and were addressed this time to the
king as well as the minister.

"Onward!" cried D'Artagnan, in a loud voice.

"Onward!" cried Porthos.

But as if the multitude had waited only for this demonstration to
burst out, all the sentiments of hostility that possessed it exploded
simultaneously. Cries of "Down with Mazarin!" "Death to the cardinal!"
resounded on all sides.

At the same time through the streets of Grenelle, Saint Honore, and Du
Coq, a double stream of people broke the feeble hedge of Swiss guards
and came like a whirlwind even to the very legs of Porthos's horse and
that of D'Artagnan.

This new eruption was more dangerous than the others, being composed of
armed men. It was plain that it was not the chance combination of those
who had collected a number of the malcontents at the same spot, but a
concerted organized attack.

Each of these mobs was led by a chief, one of whom appeared to belong,
not to the people, but to the honorable corporation of mendicants, and
the other, notwithstanding his affected imitation of the people, might
easily be discerned to be a gentleman. Both were evidently stimulated by
the same impulse.

There was a shock which was perceived even in the royal carriage.
Myriads of hoarse cries, forming one vast uproar, were heard, mingled
with guns firing.

"Ho! Musketeers!" cried D'Artagnan.

The escort divided into two files. One of them passed around to the
right of the carriage, the other to the left. One went to support
D'Artagnan, the other Porthos. Then came a skirmish, the more terrible
because it had no definite object; the more melancholy, because those
engaged in it knew not for whom they were fighting. Like all popular
movements, the shock given by the rush of this mob was formidable. The
musketeers, few in number, not being able, in the midst of this crowd,
to make their horses wheel around, began to give way. D'Artagnan offered
to lower the blinds of the royal carriage, but the young king stretched
out his arm, saying