"Or do you think it one in which a man can stop to choose his words?
Sang-dieu! That screaming is a more serious matter than at first may seem.

If these rebellious dogs should chance to hear it, it will be but so much encouragement to them.

A fearless front, a cold contempt, are weapons unrivalled if you would prevail against these mutinous cravens." But his guests were insistent that something more than fearless fronts and cold contempts should be set up as barriers between themselves and the advancing peasantry.

And in the end Bellecour impatiently quitted the room to give orders for the barricading of the gates and the defending of the Chateau, leaving behind him in the salon the very wildest of confusions.
From the windows the peasantry could now be seen, by the light of their torches, marching up the long avenue that fronted the Chateau, and headed by a single drum on which the bearer did no more than beat the step.

They were a fierce, unkempt band, rudely armed--some with scythes, some with sickles, some with hedge-knives, and some with hangers; whilst here and there was one who carried a gun, and perhaps a bayonet as well.
Nor were there men only in the rebellious ranks.