"Your skin, for we would flay you like a dog, curé; but no, your skin is not worth his head. Begone!" "The slaughter will be terrible. Once more I beseech you to reflect." Night had come on during the progress of this gloomy conference, which had been heard both within and without the tower. The Marquis de Lantenac listened in silence, letting the affair take its course; leaders sometimes exhibit this self-absorbed indifference, as a kind of prerogative of responsibility. The Imânus raised his voice above that of Cimourdain, exclaiming:-- "You men who are about to attack us, we have declared our intentions. You have heard our offers; we shall make no change in them, and woe be unto you if you refuse them. But if you consent, we will give you back the three children whom we now hold, on condition that each one of us is allowed to depart in safety." "You may all go free, save one," replied Cimourdain. "Who is that?" "Lantenac." "Monseigneur! Deliver Monseigneur! Never!" "We must have Lantenac." "Never!" "We can treat with you on no other condition." "Then you had better begin the attack." Silence ensued. The Imânus having given the signal on his horn, came down, the Marquis grasped his sword, the nineteen besieged silently gathered in the lower hall behind the _retirade_, and fell upon their knees; they heard the measured tread of the attacking column as it advanced towards the tower, drawing nearer and nearer in the darkness, until suddenly the sound was close upon them, at the very mouth of the breach. Then every man knelt and adjusted his musket or blunderbuss in an opening of the retirade, while one of their number, Grand-Francoeur, the former priest Turmeau, rose, and holding in his right hand a drawn sabre, and in his left a crucifix, solemnly uttered the blessing. "In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost!" All fired at once, and the conflict began. [Illustration 114] [Illustration 115] IX. TITANS AGAINST GIANTS. [Illustration 116] It was indeed a fearful scene. This hand-to-hand struggle surpassed all conception. To find its parallel one must have recourse to the great duels of Æschylus, or to the butcheries of old feudal times; to those "attacks with short arms" that continued in vogue until the seventeenth century, when men penetrated into fortified places by way of concealed breaches; tragic assaults, where, says an old sergeant of the province of Alentejo, "the mines having done their work, the besiegers will now advance, carrying boards covered with sheets of tin, armed with round shields and bucklers, and supplied with an abundance of grenades; and as they force those who hold the intrenchments and _retirades_ to give way, they will take possession of them, vigorously expelling the besieged."