A corporal turned with a threatening air towards us, and shook his sword.

The crowd looked on in bewilderment.
What passed within me at that moment?
I cannot tell! I was in a whirlwind.

I had at the same time yielded to a calculation, finding the opportunity good, and to a burst of rage, finding the encounter insolent.
A woman cried out to us from the pavement, "You will get yourselves cut to pieces." I vaguely imagined that some collision was about to ensue, and that, either from the crowd or from the Army, the spark would fly out.

I hoped for a sword-cut from the soldiers or a shout of anger from the people.

In short I had obeyed rather an instinct than an idea.
But nothing came of it, neither the sword-cut nor the shout of anger.