We were only able to take a few more steps. In vain did the Gendarmes try to force a way through the excited mob. We were surrounded by angry, scowling, vociferating men. Imprecations burst forth, fists were clenched, arms were waved, rifles were shaken, the unruly National Guards being the most eager of all to denounce and threaten us. "Down with the spies!" they shouted. "Down with the German pigs! Give them to us! Let us shoot them!" A very threatening rush ensued, and I was almost carried off my feet. But in another moment I found myself against the parapet of the quay, with my father beside me, and the icy river in the rear. In front of us stood the brigadier and his four men guarding us from the angry citizens of Laval. "Hand them over to us! We will settle their affair," shouted an excited National Guard. "You know that they are spies, brigadier." "I know that I have my orders," growled the veteran. "I am taking them to the Provost. It is for him to decide." "That is too much ceremony," was the retort. "Let us shoot them!" "But they are not worth a cartridge!" shouted another man. "Throw them into the river!" That ominous cry was taken up. "Yes, yes, to the river with them!" Then came another rush, one so extremely violent that our case seemed desperate. But the brigadier and his men had managed to fix bayonets during the brief parley, and on the mob being confronted by five blades of glistening steel, its savage eagerness abated. Moreover, the old brigadier behaved magnificently. "Keep back!" cried he. "I have my orders. You will have to settle me before you take my prisoners!" Just then I caught the eye of one of the National Guards, who was shaking his fist at us, and I said to him, "You are quite mistaken. We are not Germans, but English!" "Yes, yes, _Anglais, Anglais_!" my father exclaimed. While some of the men in the crowd were more or less incredulously repeating that statement, a black-bearded individual--whom I can, at this very moment, still picture with my mind's eye, so vividly did the affair impress me--climbed on to the parapet near us, and called out, "You say you are English? Do you know London? Do you know Regent Street? Do you know the Soho?" "Yes, yes!" we answered quickly. "You know the Lei-ces-terre Square? What name is the music-hall there?" "Why, the Alhambra!" The "Empire," let me add, did not exist in those days. The man seemed satisfied. "I think they are English," he said to his friends. But somebody else exclaimed, "I don't believe it. One of them is wearing a German hat."