ay broke without any change in the situation.

Armed militia occupied the square. All the citizens had gathered around
this troop awaiting developments. Even neighboring villagers had come to
look on.

Then the doctor, seeing that his reputation was at stake, resolved to
put an end to the matter in one way or another; and he was about to
take some measures, undoubtedly energetic ones, when the door of the
telegraph station opened and the little servant of the postmistress
appeared, holding in her hands two papers.

First she went to the commandant and gave him one of the despatches;
then she crossed the empty square, confused at seeing the eyes of
everyone on her, and lowering her head and running along with little
quick steps, she went and knocked softly at the door of the barricaded
house, as though ignorant of the fact that those behind it were armed.

The door opened wide enough to let a man's hand reach out and receive
the message; and the young girl returned blushing, ready to cry at being
thus stared at by the whole countryside.

In a clear voice, the doctor cried:

"Silence, if you please."

When the populace had quieted down, he continued proudly:

"Here is the communication which I have received from the government."

And lifting the telegram he read:

Former mayor dismissed. Inform him immediately, More orders
following.
For the sub-prefect:
SAPIN, Councillor.

He was-triumphant; his heart was throbbing with joy and his hands were
trembling; but Picart, his former subordinate, cried to him from a
neighboring group:

"That's all right; but supposing the others don't come out, what good is
the telegram going to do you?"

M. Massarel grew pale. He had not thought of that; if the others did not
come out, he would now have to take some decisive step. It was not only
his right, but his duty.

He looked anxiously at the town-hall, hoping to see the door open and
his adversary give in.

The door remained closed. What could he do? The crowd was growing and
closing around the militia. They were laughing.

One thought especially tortured the doctor. If he attacked, he would
have to march at the head of his men; and as, with him dead, all strife
would cease, it was at him and him only that M. de Varnetot and his
three guards would aim. And they were good shots, very good shots, as
Picart had just said. But an idea struck him and, turning to Pommel, he
ordered: