Here his first attempt to pass failed; and he might have remained hampered by the crowd, if a squad of archers had not ridden up.  As they spurred to the spot, heedless over whom they rode, he clutched a stirrup, and was borne with them into the heart of the crowd.  In a twinkling he stood on the threshold of the house, face to face and foot to foot with Count Hannibal, who stood also on the threshold, but with his back to the door, which, unbarred and unbolted, gaped open behind him.

CHAPTER V. ROUGH WOOING.

The young man had caught the delirium that was abroad that night.  The rage of the trapped beast was in his heart, his hand held a sword.  To strike blindly, to strike without question the first who withstood him was the wild-beast instinct; and if Count Hannibal had not spoken on the instant, the Marshal’s brother had said his last word in the world.

Yet as he stood there, a head above the crowd, he seemed unconscious alike of Tignonville and the point that all but pricked his breast.  Swart and grim-visaged, his harsh features distorted by the glare which shone upon him, he looked beyond the Huguenot to the sea of tossing arms and raging faces that surged about the saddles of the horsemen.  It was to these he spoke.

“Begone, dogs!” he cried, in a voice that startled the nearest, “or I will whip you away with my stirrup-leathers!  Do you hear?  Begone!  This house is not for you!  Burn, kill, plunder where you will, but go hence!”

“But ’tis on the list!” one of the wretches yelled. “’Tis on the list!” And he pushed forward until he stood at Tignonville’s elbow.

“And has no cross!” shrieked another, thrusting himself forward in his turn.  “See you, let us by, whoever you are!  In the King’s name, kill!  It has no cross!”

“Then,” Tavannes thundered, “will I nail you for a cross to the front of it!  No cross, say you?  I will make one of you, foul crow!”

And as he spoke, his arm shot out; the man recoiled, his fellow likewise.  But one of the mounted archers took up the matter.

“Nay, but, my lord,” he said—­he knew Tavannes—­“it is the King’s will there be no favour shown to-night to any, small or great.  And this house is registered, and is full of heretics.”

“And has no cross!” the rabble urged in chorus.  And they leapt up and down in their impatience, and to see the better.  “And has no cross!” they persisted.  They could understand that.  Of what use crosses, if they were not to kill where there was no cross?  Daylight was not plainer.  Tavannes’ face grew dark, and he shook his finger at the archer who had spoken.

“Rogue,” he cried, “does the King’s will run here only?  Are there no other houses to sack or men to kill, that you must beard me?  And favour?  You will have little of mine, if you do not budge and take your vile tail with you!  Off!  Or must I cry ‘Tavannes!’ and bid my people sweep you from the streets?”