"Bravo! bravo!" cried the torchmen, taking us for zealous Catholics; and on we hurried after them as close as we could come. But the house of Martin Vern was far off. The streets were beginning to swarm with people; we saw two doors burst open, to pillage the houses and massacre the inhabitants, before we reached the end of the street; and Louise could not keep up with the men, whose mistake might still have saved us if we could have gone on in their company. Nothing, then, but certain death seemed to surround us on every side; the only chance was in putting Moric Endem at the head of our troop; but he was known to so many Catholics as well as Protestants, that the first order to unmask would have betrayed all. As we were following the other party at some distance, five or six people came up from the opposite direction, and spoke a moment to those before us. There was a woman with these new-comers; but they stopped, and one man advanced, saying, "Unmask!" Moric was about to cut him down, but I stopped him, and replied, "Unmask yourself." "Ha!" cried the other, "I was seeking you, Monsieur des Bois. We shall save you still. Miriam, link yourself with the lady; my men, mingle with their men. Let none of your party," he added, in a low tone, "unmask; we will do that if need should be. Now, shout, my men, and wave your torches. Up with the Catholic church, down with the Maheutres!" "Oh, my father! my father!" said Louise to me, in a low voice; "can we not save my father! Oh, Henry! Henry! think of him!" I spoke a word upon the subject to the young merchant, but he stopped me sharply ere I could finish my sentence. "I am risking my life by what I am doing even now. Speak not of it! He has a Catholic wife; she will save his house. Come on! come on! You will see such sights as will make you glad of your own lives!" I whispered to Louise the hope that he gave me, scanty as it was; and, alas! as we hastened onward, the sights we saw did fully justify that which the young merchant had said. Before we had gone half a mile, the streets of Paris were one scene of massacre and horror. The whole place was blazing with torches; large parties of armed men, on foot and on horseback, were scouring the streets, killing every one even suspected of Protestantism; and many a Catholic, too, was slain in the anarchy of the time, who stood between fair estates and greedy relations. Six or seven we saw slain before our eyes; and thrice, while the echoing screams of new victims were heard within the houses, a dead body was cast forth from the upper windows into the streets as we were passing. Instantly a crowd of the dark and sallow villains that crowd the lanes and alleys of every great metropolis, gathered round, like vultures over the dead, to strip it of its clothing; and often was heard the low groan or faint cry which followed the dagger-stroke that ended what the assassins above had left unfinished.