ory of the Jacobins, having the honor
to be washerwoman to Dom. Modeste Gorenflot, the abbe."

"Look, compere," cried Miton, "at what is passing."

M. Friard, following the direction of his friend's finger, saw them
closing yet another door, while a party of Swiss placed themselves
before it. "How! more barriers!" cried he.

"What did I tell you?" said Miton.

At the sight of this new precaution, a long murmur of astonishment and
some cries of discontent proceeded from the crowd.

"Clear the road! Back!" cried an officer.

This maneuver was not executed without difficulty; the people in carts
and on horseback tried to go back, and nearly crushed the crowd behind
them. Women cried and men swore, while those who could escape, did,
overturning the others.

"The Lorraines! the Lorraines!" cried a voice in the midst of this
tumult.

"Oh!" cried Miton, trembling, "let us fly."

"Fly! and where?" said Friard.

"Into this inclosure," answered Miton tearing his hands by seizing the
thorns of the hedge.

"Into that inclosure, it is not so easy. I see no opening, and you
cannot climb a hedge that is higher than I am."

"I will try," returned Miton, making new efforts.

"Oh! take care, my good woman," cried Friard, in a tone of distress;
"your ass is on my feet. Oh, monsieur, take care, your horse is going to
kick."

While M. Miton was vainly trying to climb the hedge, and M. Friard to
find an opening through which to push himself, their neighbor quietly
opened his long legs and strode over the hedge with as much ease as one
might have leaped it on horseback. M. Miton imitated him at last after
much detriment to his hands and clothes; but poor Friard could not
succeed, in spite of all his efforts, till the stranger, stretching out
his long arms, and seizing him by the collar of his doublet, lifted him
over.

"Ah! monsieur," said he, when he felt himself on the ground, "on the
word of Jean Friard, you are a real Hercules; your name, monsieur? the
name of my deliverer?"

"I am called Briquet--Robert Briquet, monsieur."

"You have saved me, M. Briquet--my wife will bless you. But apropos; mon
Dieu! she will be stifled in this crowd. Ah! cursed Swiss, only good to
crush people!"

As he spoke, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and, looking round
and seeing that it was a Swiss, he took to flight, followed by Miton.
The other man laughed quietly, then turning to the Swiss, said:

"Are the Lorraines coming?"