They could not, however, retreat
far; their own men still advancing behind blocked up the way; and after
a while, that which De Lescure had predicted took place: another party
of Vendeans had attacked them in the rear, and occupied the only gate
through which they could leave the city.
And now the slaughter in the street was dreadful, and the blues hemmed
in on every side fought desperately for their lives, like beasts at bay.
Every now and again the Vendeans retreated a step or two, driven back
by the fury of their foes, and then again regained their ground,
advancing over the bodies of the slain. No one in the strange medley on
which he was looking, was more conspicuous to de Lescure's eyes than
Adolphe Denot; he had lost his cap in the confusion of the fight, and
his thin, wan face, disfigured by the wound which the Chevalier had
given him, was plainly to be seen; and de Lescure was shocked by the
change which he saw there: the only weapon he bore was a huge sabre,
which he swung round his head with a strength which could not have been
expected from his attenuated frame; he was often the most forward,
always among the first of the assailants; and frequently became
surrounded by the blues, who were prevented by the closeness of the
crowd from using their arms.
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