But a tremor ran through the crowd, and an old woman rushed up. It was Mother Brulé, terrible in her leanness, with her neck and arms in the air, coming up at such a pace that the wisps of her grey hair blinded her.
"Ah! by God! here I am," she stammered, out of breath; "that traitor Pierron, who shut me up in the cellar!"
And without waiting she fell on the soldiers, her black mouth belching a***e.
"Pack of scoundrels! dirty scum! ready to lick their masters' boots, and only brave against poor people!"
Then the others joined her, and there were volleys of insults. A few, indeed, cried: "Hurrah for the soldiers! to the shaft with the officer!" but soon there was only one clamour: "Down with the red breeches!" These men, who had listened quietly, with motionless mute faces, to the frate
