"No, citoyens! À la lanterne! À la lanterne!" The next moment all other cries were swallowed up in the wild outburst: "À la lanterne!" A hundred hands were stretched out to grasp the Marseillais, when Barabant, to the despair of Nicole, flung himself in front of Javogues, and with appealing arm sought to be heard. But the torrent he faced was relentless. He saw nothing but open mouths, clenched fists, black brows; pistol, knife, and hatchet tossing above the surge of arms. His friends thundered in his ear: "À la lanterne!" Those in the back, climbing on the benches, bellowed down: "À la lanterne!" From the tribune, frenzied and terrible in his anger, Goursac whipped on the tempest: "À la lanterne!" Barabant, with all effort of his lungs, could not utter a sound against the storm. Those that were near shouted to him: "Barabant, do not balk us!" "Barabant, look out for your own neck!" All at once, through the crowd, the terrified figure of Nicole struggled toward him. She flung herself to his side, catching him violently by the shoulders, panting and hysterical. "Barabant--for my sake--Barabant--for your own safety--Barabant--if you believe in a woman's premonitions, do not save that viper!" He shook his head and firmly but gently put her from him. The girl, covering her face with her hands, yielded to her despair and fell back into the crowd; while Barabant, never flinching, fought the uproar until he forced the frantic audience to listen. "This man," he cried at last, above the persisting clamor--"this man is guilty; he should die!" The uproar broke out afresh. "He has put human beings to death without authority from the people. He _must_ die!" "À la lanterne!" "Listen!" "Shut the doors! Lock the doors!" "But, citoyens," Barabant burst out, "neither have we the right of death. Denounce him, arrest him, but obey the law. Respect the law; respect justice. Citoyens, I demand the arrestation." The shouts rose in conflict. "No! no!" "Yes! yes! yes!" "Death to him!" "Arrest him!" "Hang him!" "The law! The law!" The mob was divided, threatening to clash and annihilate itself. The result was a dozen times in doubt, but after half an hour of lull and tumult the verdict was for the course of the law. Barabant again mounted the tribune and put the resolution of arrest. Javogues and the two Marseillais were led away; the storm rolled out; the hall emptied; a few loiterers straggled down the benches, staring at Nicole, who, exhausted, sobbed on the shoulder of Goursac: "What a mistake! What a mistake!" Barabant, leaving the tribune, approached his friends. Now that the passions of the moment were cold, he began to doubt the wisdom of his act. "I could not help it, Nicole," he said, moved by her utter grief. "It was right, Goursac, was it not?" Twice he repeated the question without success; nor did the other answer until they reached the Rue Maugout. Then, at length, his bitterness broke through.