The more numerous his opponents--if they were men--the better he would be pleased; and if they were women, such women, unsexed by hate and superstition, as he saw before him, women looking a millionfold more like witches than the girl they accused, the worse for them! His arm would not falter! It seemed of steel indeed.

The bar quivered like a reed in his grasp, his eyes darted hither and thither, he stood an inch taller than at other times.

He was like the war-horse that sniffs the battle.
And yet he was cool after a fashion.

He must get her home, and to do so he must not lose a moment.

The vantage of the steps on which they stood, raised a hand's breath above their assailants, was a thing to be weighed; but it would not serve them if these cursed women mustered, and the cowardly crew before him throve to a mob.