"De Chemerant, you are as culpable as this miserable scoundrel." "But, my lords, the English envoy was deceived as well as I." "It is impossible; you are his accomplice." "My lords, you insult me!" "A man of your experience, sir, does not allow himself to be made ridiculous in this way." "We must avenge ourselves!" "Yes, vengeance! vengeance!" These accusations, these reproaches bandied about so rapidly, caused such a tumult that it was impossible for De Chemerant to make himself heard among so many furious cries. The attitude of the English gentlemen became so threatening toward him, their recriminations so violent, that he placed himself alongside the officers of the frigate, and all carried their hands to their swords. Croustillac, alone between the two groups, was a butt for the invectives, the attacks, and the maledictions of both parties. Intrepid, audacious, his arms crossed, his head high, his eye unblenching, the adventurer heard the muttering and bursting forth of this formidable storm with impassible phlegm, saying to himself: "This ruins all; they may throw me overboard--that is to say, into the open sea; the leap is perilous, though I can swim like a Triton, but I can do no more; this was sure to happen sooner or later; and beside, as I said this morning, one does not sacrifice oneself for people in order to be crowned with flowers and caressed by woodland nymphs." Although at its height, the tumult was dominated by the voice of Mortimer who cried: "Monsieur De Chemerant, have this wretch hanged first; you owe us this satisfaction." "Yes, yes, hang him to the yardarm," said the English gentlemen; "we will have our explanations afterward." "You will oblige me much by explaining yourselves beforehand!" cried Croustillac. "He speaks! he dares to speak!" cried one. "Eh! who, then, will speak in my favor, if not myself?" replied the Gascon. "Would it be you, by chance, my gentleman?" "Gentlemen," cried De Chemerant, "Lord Mortimer is right in proposing that justice be done to this abominable impostor." "He is wrong; I maintain that he is wrong, a hundred thousand times wrong!" cried Croustillac; "it is an obsolete, tame, vulgar means----" "Be silent, unhappy wretch!" cried the athletic Mortimer, seizing the hands of the Gascon. "Do not lay your hands on a gentleman, or, Sdeath! you shall pay dear for this outrage!" cried Croustillac angrily. "Your sword, scoundrel!" said De Chemerant, while twenty raised arms threatened the adventurer. "In fact, the lion can do nothing against an hundred wolves," said the Gascon majestically, giving up his rapier. "Now, gentlemen," resumed De Chemerant, "I continue. Yes, the honorable Lord Mortimer is right in wishing to have this rascal hanged."