"Down with the spies!" they
shouted. "Down with the German pigs! Give them to us! Let us shoot them!"
A very threatening rush ensued, and I was almost carried off my feet. But
in another moment I found myself against the parapet of the quay, with my
father beside me, and the icy river in the rear. In front of us stood the
brigadier and his four men guarding us from the angry citizens of Laval.
"Hand them over to us! We will settle their affair," shouted an excited
National Guard. "You know that they are spies, brigadier."
"I know that I have my orders," growled the veteran. "I am taking them to
the Provost. It is for him to decide."
"That is too much ceremony," was the retort. "Let us shoot them!"
"But they are not worth a cartridge!" shouted another man. "Throw them
into the river!"
That ominous cry was taken up. "Yes, yes, to the river with them!" Then
came another rush, one so extremely violent that our case seemed
desperate.
But the brigadier and his men had managed to fix bayonets during the brief
parley, and on the mob being confronted by five blades of glistening
steel, its savage eagerness abated. Moreover, the old brigadier behaved
magnificently.
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