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The other voice said, "Let us be off." A last musket-shot was fired.
Then a violent blow which we interpreted as a warning shook our wooden
wall. It was in reality one of the workmen who had thrown down his gun
when going away; the gun in falling had struck the paling of the
ambulance. We heard the rapid steps of the two combatants, as they ran
off.
Almost at the same moment a tumult of voices, and of butt ends of
muskets striking the paving-stones, filled the barricade.
"It is taken," said the last-maker, and he blew out the candle.
To the silence which enveloped this street a moment before succeeded a
sort of ill-omened tumult. The soldiers knocked at the doors of the
houses with the butt-ends of their muskets. It was by a miracle that the
shop-door escaped them. If they had merely pushed against it, they would
have seen that it was not shut, and would have entered.
A voice, probably the voice of an officer, cried out, "Light up the
windows!" The soldiers swore. We heard them say, "Where are those
blackguard Reds? Let us search the houses." The ambulance was plunged in
darkness. Not a word was spoken, not a breath could be heard; even the
dying man, as though he divined the danger, had ceased to gurgle. I felt
the little girl pressing herself against my legs.
A soldier struck the barrels, and said laughingly,--
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