instantly get out again. Four obeyed, but one refused to budge;
whereupon Moulin, finding himself no longer outnumbered, laid aside his
gun, and, seizing his adversary round the waist, lifted him as if he were
a child and flung him out of the window. The man died three weeks later,
not from the fall but from the squeeze.

Moulin then dashed to the window to secure it, but as he laid his hand on
it he felt his head seized from behind and pressed violently down on his
left shoulder; at the same instant a pane was broken into splinters, and
the head of a hatchet struck his right shoulder. M. de Saint-Chamans, who
had followed him into the room, had seen the weapon thrown at Moulin's
head, and not being able to turn aside the iron, had turned aside the
object at which it was aimed. Moulin seized the hatchet by the handle
and tore it out of the hands of him who had delivered the blow, which
fortunately had missed its aim. He then finished closing the window, and
secured it by making fast the inside shutters, and went upstairs to see
after the marshal.

Him he found striding up and down his room, his handsome and noble face
as calm as if the voices of all those shouting men outside were not
demanding his death. Moulin made him leave No. 1 for No. 3, which, being
a back room and looking out on the courtyard, seemed to offer more
chances of safety than the other. The marshal asked for writing
materials, which Moulin brought, whereupon the marshal sat down at a
little table and began to write.

Just then the cries outside became still more uproarious. M. de
Saint-Chamans had gone out and ordered the crowd to disperse, whereupon a
thousand people had answered him with one voice, asking who he was that
he should give such an order. He announced his rank and authority, to