blows that were dealt him. By presence of
mind, address, and courage, recovering at that critical moment his old
military energy, he had hitherto been able to resist and to remain firm
on his feet--knowing, by the example of Goliath, that to fall was to die.
Though he had little hope of being heard to any purpose, the abbe
continued to call for help with all his might. Disputing the ground inch
by inch, he manoeuvred so as to draw near one of the lateral walls of the
church, and at length succeeded in ensconcing himself in a corner formed
by the projection of a buttress, and close by a little door.

This position was rather favorable. Leaning with his back against the
wall, Father d'Aigrigny was sheltered from the attacks of a portion of
his assailants. But the quarryman, wishing to deprive him of this last
chance of safety, rushed upon him, with the intention of dragging him out
into the circle where he would have been trampled under foot. The fear of
death gave Father d'Aigrigny extraordinary strength, and he was able once
more to repulse the quarryman, and remain entrenched in the corner where
he had taken refuge. The resistance of the victim redoubled the rage of
the assailants. Cries of murderous import resounded with new violence.
The quarryman again rushed upon Father d'Aigrigny, saying, "Follow me,
friends! this lasts too long. Let us make an end of it."

Father d'Aigrigny saw that he was lost. His strength was exhausted, and
he felt himself sinking; his legs trembled under him, and a cloud
obscured his sight; the howling of the furious mob began to sound dull
upon his ear. The effects of violent contusions, received during the
struggle, both on the head and chest, were now very perceptible. Two or
three times, a mixture of blood and foam rose to the lips of the abbe;
his position was a desperate one.

"To be slaughtered by these brutes, after escaping death so often in
war!" Such was the thought of Father d'Aigrigny, as the quarryman rushed
upon him.

Suddenly, at the very moment when the abbe, yielding to the instinct of
self-preservation, uttered one last call for help, in a heart-piercing
voice, the door against which he leaned opened behind him, and a firm
hand caught hold of him, and pulled him into the church. Thanks to this
movement, performed with the rapidity of lightning, the quarryman, thrown
forward in his attempt to seize Father d'Aigrigny, could not check his
progress, and found himself just op