Strona 503 z 896

"Come, then!" cried Defarge, in a resounding voice. "Patriots and

friends, we are ready! The Bastille!"

With a roar that sounded as if all the breath in France had been

shaped into the detested word, the living sea rose, wave on wave,

depth on depth, and overflowed the city to that point.

Alarm-bells ringing, drums beating, the sea raging and thundering

on its new beach, the attack began.

Deep ditches, double drawbridge, massive stone walls, eight great

towers, cannon, muskets, fire and smoke. Through the fire and

through the smoke--in the fire and in the smoke, for the sea cast

him up against a cannon, and on the instant he became a

cannonier--Defarge of the wine-shop worked like a manful soldier,

Two fierce hours.