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His streaming white hair, his remarkable face, and the impetuous

confidence of his manner, as he put the weapons aside like water,

carried him in an instant to the heart of the concourse at the

stone. For a few moments there was a pause, and a hurry, and a

murmur, and the unintelligible sound of his voice; and then Mr.

Lorry saw him, surrounded by all, and in the midst of a line of

twenty men long, all linked shoulder to shoulder, and hand to

shoulder, hurried out with cries of--"Live the Bastille prisoner!

Help for the Bastille prisoner's kindred in La Force! Room for

the Bastille prisoner in front there! Save the prisoner Evremonde

at La Force!" and a thousand answering shouts.