One of the men who remained near the chimney approached the window, a firebrand in his hand. "Ah, ah!" said he, "it gets warm." Then, turning to his companion: "There is the signal," added he; and he immediately applied the burning brand to the wainscoting. Now, this _cabaret_ of the Image-de-Notre-Dame was not a very newly built house, and therefore, did not require much entreating to take fire. In a second the boards began to crackle, and the flames arose sparkling to the ceiling. A howling from without replied to the shouts of the incendiaries. D'Artagnan, who had not seen what passed, from being engaged at the window, felt, at the same time, the smoke which choked him and the fire that scorched him.
"_Hola!_" cried he, turning round, "is the fire here? Are you drunk or mad, my masters?"
The two men looked at each other with an air of astonishment. "In what?" asked they of D'Artagnan; "was it not a thing agreed upon?"
"A thing agreed upon that you should burn my house!" vociferated D'Artagnan, snatching the brand from the hand of the incendiary, and striking him with it across the face. The second wanted to assist his comrade, but Raoul, seizing him by the middle, threw him out of the window, whilst D'Artagnan pushed his man down the stairs. Raoul, first disengaged, tore the burning wainscoting down, and threw it flaming into the chamber. At a glance D'Artagnan saw there was nothing to be feared from the fire, and sprang to the window. The disorder was at its height. The air was filled with simultaneous cries of "To the fire!"
"To the death!" "To the halter!" "To the stake!" "_Vive Colbert!_""_Vive le roi!_" The group which had forced the culprits from the hands of the archers had drawn close to the house, which appeared to be the goal towards which they dragged them. Menneville was at the head of this group, shouting louder than all the others, "To the fire! to the fire!
_Vive Colbert!_" D'Artagnan began to comprehend what was meant. They wanted to burn the condemned, and his house was to serve as a funeral pile.
"Halt, there!" cried he, sword in hand, and one foot upon the window.
"Menneville, what do you want to do?"
"Monsieur d'Artagnan," cried the latter; "give way, give way!"
"To the fire! to the fire with the thieves! _Vive Colbert!_"These cries exasperated D'Artagnan. "_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!"
