D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 276: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A Corporeal Shade. 259 with the flat of it, and was beginning to pierce and cut when the Marianda servitors came to his aid. All dis- appeared under the dense rioters, like bulls under a pack of dogs. As if to infuriate the rabble still more, some one inside the inclosure, standing on stones, threw boiling water and missiles over, with more violence than discrimination, for the old monk’s defenders had their share. This added oil to the flames. The chorus of threats, imprecations, groans and shrieks of pain and choler in- creased; pistols and short-cut guns were fired at any risk; one or two shots threatened to spoil Porthos’ suit, and flattened on the door. All those improvised weapons which bristle at a popular rising menaced the newcom- ers; spears made of shears, knives tied to dyers’ poles, meat-choppers mounted on clubs, bludgeons of vine- stakes; those who had been in Africa used sticks as djerids, and darted them at the knot of defenders around the fallen wretch. The latter bid fair to be trodden to pulp. Luckily, if it was good luck, the revengeful hands drew him out from the press and finished the last stripping—his robe was converted into ribbons, which waved as triumphant banners over his dilapidated form. At the same instant that Porthos and the steward tried to disengage themselves—not to retire, but to charge to the deliverance—the mob recoiled and dropped the prize. One of them had plucked from the body, suspended by a thong, an iron dagger, of which he had attempted to make no use; either he had scruples against blood-spill- ing, or it was not a weapon, but a token. While the finder of this instrument held it in doubt, about, perhaps, to settle it by plunging it into the ill- fated janitor, the ruffians made the final attack on the interferers with their pastime. Front and rear, from all sides, weapons and projectiles rained ; blinded, hampered, unable to strike, the servants of Marianda were forced back on their two leaders; Por- thos, losing his footing, feeling that the hands on his arm and sword hilt might wrest it away, shouted, in des- peration : (CONNIE IOOKKS (E(0) im