"We'll throw the house out of the windows."

"When we have made the mealy-mouthed chits sing," cried Ciboule, "we will
make them dance to the clatter of stones on their heads."

"Come, my Wolves! attention!" cried the quarryman, still in the same
stentorian voice; "one more volley, and if the Devourers do not come out,
down with the door!"

This proposition was received with cheers of savage ardor, and the
quarryman, whose voice rose above the tumult, cried with all the strength
of his herculean lungs: "Attention, my Wolves. Make ready! all together.
Now, are you ready?"

"Yes, yes--all ready!"

"Then, present!--fire!" And, for the second time, a shower of enormous
stones poured upon that side of the Common Dwelling-house which was
turned towards the fields. A part of these projectiles broke such of the
windows as had been spared by the first volley. To the sharp smashing and
cracking of glass were joined the ferocious cries uttered in chorus by
this formidable mob, drunk with its own excesses: "Death to the
Devourers!"

Soon these outcries became perfectly frantic, when, through the broken
windows, the assailants perceived women running in terror, some with
children in their arms, and others raising their hands to heaven, calling
aloud for help; whilst a few, bolder than the rest, leaned out of the
windows, and tried to fasten the outside blinds.