They
tried to drag the motorman off, in spite of the guards, they smashed
the car windows, they tore out the cushions, they beat the policemen,
and wrenched their clubs out of their hands. Finally several of the
officers drew their pistols and fired into the air.
At this the crowd fell back for a second, and the turmoil of shouts
and cries that had been deafening a moment before, died away in sudden
silence--a threatening, dangerous silence as of a wild beast about to
spring.
Into this instant of silence broke a new cry from the outskirts of the
crowd.
"It's the mayor. Make way for the mayor!"
"No, it's the bishop. Make way for the bishop! Stand back! Stand
back!"
At this cry, Theodore turned like a flash and gazed in the direction
in which all eyes were turning. There was no mistake. The bishop was
surely one of the occupants of a carriage that was slowly forcing its
way through the throng.
With his heart beating with a wild joy; his eyes glowing; the colour
coming and going in his cheeks, Theodore stood still until the
carriage stopped. Then sliding through the smallest spaces, darting
between feet, this way and that, the boy managed somehow to reach the
side of the carriage, where he stood with his hand on one of the
wheels, his eager, burning gaze fastened on the face he loved so
well.
Pages:
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265