Other corsairs, thinking only of plunder,--these belonged to the galley of Trimalcyon,--ran like so many demons across the conflagration they had kindled, some laden with costly articles, and others bearing in their robust arms women and young girls, who uttered shrieks of agony and terror. The ground was already strewn with bodies riddled with wounds, unfortunate victims who at least bore testimony to a desperate resistance on the part of the inhabitants. Near the middle of the square, and not far from the little street which conducted to the port, could be seen a confused mass of all sorts of objects guarded by two Moors. The pirates increased this pile of plunder every moment, by coming there and throwing down additional booty, then returning to pillage and murder with renewed ardour. The number of brave sailors and citizens, who were defending themselves in the town hall, began to diminish sensibly under the blows of the spahis of Pog, who thirsted far more for blood than for pillage. Armed with a hatchet, Pog attacked the door with fury, voluntarily exposing his life. He wore neither helmet nor cuirass, and was only clothed in his yellek of black velvet. At the height of this attack Raimond V. arrived on the square. His troops announced their presence by a general discharge of musketry on the assailants of the town hall. The pirates, attacked unawares, turned and threw themselves in a rage against the soldiers of the baron. Each side then abandoned firearms. A hand to hand struggle ensued; the conflict became bloody, terrible beyond words to describe. The band of Trimalcyon, seeing this unexpected reinforcement, left their pillage and rallied around Fog’s pirates, surrounding the little company of Raimond V., who was performing prodigies of valour. The old gentleman seemed to recover the strength of the years of his youth. Armed with a heavy boar-spear, which was provided with a sharp and well-tempered bayonet, he employed this murderous weapon, both lance and club, with tremendous power, and although his helmet was broken in several places and his sword-belt covered with blood, Raimond V., in his enthusiasm as a warrior, did not feel his wounds. Carried along on the wave of battle, Pog suddenly found himself face to face with the baron. His pale, haughty face, his long red beard, were too conspicuous not to have made a lively impression on Raimond V. He recognised in this pirate one of the two strangers who accompanied Erebus, at the time of the meeting in the gorges of Ollioules. “It is the Muscovite who accompanied the brave young man to whom I owe my life,” cried Raimond V.; then he added, as he lifted his spear: “Ah! wild bear, you come from the ice of the north to ravage our provinces!” And with these words Raimond V. aimed a terrible blow full in the breast. Pog avoided the blow by a quick movement in retreat, but his arm was run through.