A distant murmur, which became more distinct by degrees, stopped this reflection, and drew his attention another way. This murmur was occasioned by the arrival of the culprits; a strong picket of archers preceded them, and appeared at the angle of the arcade. The entire crowd now joined as if in one cry; all the cries united formed one immense howl. D’Artagnan saw Raoul was becoming pale, and he slapped him roughly on the shoulder. The fire-keepers turned round on hearing the great cry, and asked what was going on. “The condemned are arrived,” said D’Artagnan. “That’s well,” replied they, again replenishing the fire. D’Artagnan looked at them with much uneasiness; it was evident that these men who were making such a fire for no apparent purpose had some strange intentions. The condemned appeared upon the Place. They were walking, the executioner before them, whilst fifty archers formed a hedge on their right and their left. Both were dressed in black; they appeared pale, but firm. They looked impatiently over the people’s heads, standing on tip-toe at every step. D’Artagnan remarked this. “Mordioux!” cried he, “they are in a great hurry to get a sight of the gibbet!” Raoul drew back, without, however, having the power to leave the window. Terror even has its attractions. “To the death! to the death!” cried fifty thousand voices. “Yes; to the death!” howled a hundred frantic others, as if the great mass had given them the reply. “To the halter! to the halter!” cried the great whole; “Vive le roi!” “Well,” said D’Artagnan, “this is droll; I should have thought it was M. Colbert who had caused them to be hung.”