At that point a terrible uproar was heard outside, and Proserpine's men rushed to the door. The tumult was caused by the captain's Germans, who, being summoned by him from the window, hastened to set him free. The guards at the door were Italians of Saccage's command, and their orders were not to allow any person to go in or out. The three troops were constantly quarrelling among themselves, like their leaders, who upheld their own men while striving to keep them apart. But this time it was impossible; Saccage, who had also been attracted by Macabre's outcries, and thought that Proserpine was in the act of doing away with her tyrant, exerted himself to prevent the Germans from going to his assistance. As for the lieutenantess's Frenchmen, they had no love for either of the other factions; and they all began to attack one another, without resorting to their weapons as yet, but abusing one another savagely, and fighting with hands and feet. This uproar was accompanied by the crashing of furniture in the room above, where Macabre was fighting like a demon to set himself free, and by the piercing shrieks of La Proserpine encouraging her partizans, for she was beginning to fear for her own life if they should be worsted. We may imagine that the marquis did not await the result of the combat before thinking of flight. In one bound he was at his son's side, trying to unbind him, but the knot was so artistically tied that, in his excitement, he was unable to untie it. "Cut it! cut it!" said Madame Pignoux. But the old man's hand trembled convulsively. He was afraid of wounding the child with the knife. "Let me do it!" said Mario, pushing them both away. And with perfect self-possession he skilfully untied the knot. The marquis took him in his arms and followed the landlady and her maid-servant, whom he saw running toward the pantry. As he left the house he nearly fell at the threshold. A body lay across the doorway; it was Jacques le Bréchaud's. He was dead; but beside him lay the bodies of two _reitres_, one run through with a spit, the other half beheaded with the larding-knife, Jacques had had his revenge, and had cleared the path. His ugly but powerful face wore a terrifying expression; it seemed to be contracted by a triumphant laugh, and the teeth were parted as if they would bite. The marquis saw at a glance that there was nothing to be done for the poor fellow. He held Mario close to his breast and ran as fast as he could. "Put me down," said the child, "we can run better. Please put me down!" But the marquis fancied that he could hear the clicking of the terrible flint-lock pistols behind him, and he wished to make his body a rampart for his son. When he found that he was out of range, he decided to let him run too, and they hurried toward the thicket where the half-ruined roof of the former hostelry lay hidden.