cried D’Artagnan, in a loud voice.
“Onward!” cried Porthos.
But as if the multitude had waited only for this demonstration to burst out, all the sentiments of hostility that possessed it exploded simultaneously. Cries of “Down with Mazarin!” “Death to the cardinal!” resounded on all sides.
At the same time through the streets of Grenelle, Saint Honore, and Du Coq, a double stream of people broke the feeble hedge of Swiss guards and came like a whirlwind even to the very legs of Porthos’s horse and that of D’Artagnan.
This new eruption was more dangerous than the others, being composed of armed men. It was plain that it was not the chance combination of