"_Mordioux!_" said he.

"What! burn the poor devils who are only condemned to be hung?
that is infamous!" Before the door, however, the mass of anxious spectators, rolled back against the walls, had become more thick, and closed up the way.
Menneville and his men, who were dragging along the culprits, were within ten paces of the door.
Menneville made a last effort.

"Passage! passage!" cried he, pistol in hand.
"Burn them! burn them!" repeated the crowd.

"The Image-de-Notre-Dame is on fire! Burn the thieves! burn the monopolists in the Image-de-Notre-Dame!" There now remained no doubt, it was plainly D'Artagnan's house that was their object.

D'Artagnan remembered the old cry, always so effective from his mouth: "_A moi! mousquetaires!_" shouted he, with the voice of a giant, with one of those voices which dominate over cannon, the sea, the tempest.