Then she again thoughtfully watched the curious scene of panic around
her. The bourgeois gradually disappeared; soon there only remained
Vuillet and Roudier, whom the approaching danger inspired with some
courage. As for Granoux, he likewise remained in his corner, his legs
refusing to perform their office.
"Well, I like this better," Sicardot remarked, as he observed the flight
of the other adherents. "Those cowards were exasperating me at last.
For more than two years they've been speaking of shooting all the
Republicans in the province, and to-day they wouldn't even fire a
halfpenny cracker under their noses."
Then he took up his hat and turned towards the door.
"Let's see," he continued, "time presses. Come, Rougon."
Felicite, it seemed, had been waiting for this moment. She placed
herself between the door and her husband, who, for that matter, was not
particularly eager to follow the formidable Sicardot.
"I won't have you go out," she cried, feigning sudden despair. "I won't
let you leave my side. Those scoundrels will kill you."
The commander stopped in amazement.
"Hang it all!" he growled, "if the women are going to whine now--Come
along, Rougon!'
"No, no," continued the old woman, affecting increase of terror, "he
sha'n't follow you. I will hang on to his clothes and prevent him."
The marquis, very much surprised at the scene, looked inquiringly at
Felicite. Was this really the woman who had just now been conversing so
merrily? What comedy was she playing? Pierre, meantime, seeing that his
wife wanted to detain him, deigned a determination to force his way out.
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