IN WHICH MATTERS GO SO FAR THAT THE INHABITANTS OF QUIQUENDONE, THE
READER, AND EVEN THE AUTHOR, DEMAND AN IMMEDIATE DÉNOUEMENT.
The last incident proves to what a pitch of excitement the
Quiquendonians had been wrought. The two oldest friends in the town,
and the most gentle—before the advent of the epidemic, to reach this
degree of violence! And that, too, only a few minutes after their old
mutual sympathy, their amiable instincts, their contemplative habit,
had been restored at the summit of the tower!
On learning what was going on, Doctor Ox could not contain his joy. He
resisted the arguments which Ygène, who saw what a serious turn affairs
were taking, addressed to him. Besides, both of them were infected by
the general fury. They were not less excited than the rest of the
population, and they ended by quarrelling as violently as the
burgomaster and the counsellor.
Besides, one question eclipsed all others, and the intended duels were
postponed to the issue of the Virgamenian difficulty. No man had the
right to shed his blood uselessly, when it belonged, to the last drop,
to his country in danger. The affair was, in short, a grave one, and
there was no withdrawing from it.
The Burgomaster Van Tricasse, despite the warlike ardour with which he
was filled, had not thought it best to throw himself upon the enemy
without warning him. He had, therefore, through the medium of the rural
policeman, Hottering, sent to demand reparation of the Virgamenians for
the offence committed, in 1195, on the Quiquendonian territory.
The authorities of Virgamen could not at first imagine of what the
envoy spoke, and the latter, despite his official character, was
conducted back to the frontier very cavalierly.
Van Tricasse then sent one of the aides-de-camp of the
confectioner-general, citizen Hildevert Shuman, a manufacturer of
barley-sugar, a very firm and energetic man, who carried to the
authorities of Virgamen the original minute of the indictment drawn up
in 1195 by order of the Burgomaster Natalís Van Tricasse.
The authorities of Virgamen burst out laughing, and served the
aide-de-camp in the same manner as the rural policeman.
The burgomaster then assembled the dignitaries of the town.
A letter, remarkably and vigorously drawn up, was written as an
ultimatum; the cause of quarrel was plainly stated, and a delay of
twenty-four hours was accorded to the guilty city in which to repair
the outrage done to Quiquendone.
The letter was sent off, and returned a few hours afterwards, torn to
bits, which made so many fresh insults. The Virgamenians knew of old
the forbearance and equanimity of the Quiquendonians, and made sport of
them and their demand, of their _casus belli_ and their _ultimatum_.
There was only one thing left to do,—to have recourse to arms, to
invoke the God of battles, and, after the Prussian fashion, to hurl
themselves upon the Virgamenians before the latter could be prepared.
This decision was made by the council in solemn conclave, in which
cries, objurgations, and menacing gestures were mingled with unexampled
violence. An assembly of idiots, a congress of madmen, a club of
maniacs, would not have been more tumultuous.
As soon as the declaration of war was known, General Jean Orbideck
assembled his troops, perhaps two thousand three hundred and
ninety-three combatants from a population of two thousand three hundred
and ninety-three souls. The women, the children, the old men, were
joined with the able-bodied males. The guns of the town had been put
under requisition. Five had been found, two of which were without
cocks, and these had been distributed to the advance-guard. The
artillery was composed of the old culverin of the château, taken in
1339 at the attack on Quesnoy, one of the first occasions of the use of
cannon in history, and which had not been fired off for five centuries.
Happily for those who were appointed to take it in charge there were no
projectiles with which to load it; but such as it was, this engine
might well impose on the enemy. As for side-arms, they had been taken
from the museum of antiquities,—flint hatchets, helmets, Frankish
battle-axes, javelins, halberds, rapiers, and so on; and also in those
domestic arsenals commonly known as “cupboards” and “kitchens.” But
courage, the right, hatred of the foreigner, the yearning for
vengeance, were to take the place of more perfect engines, and to
replace—at least it was hoped so—the modern mitrailleuses and
breech-loaders.
The troops were passed in review. Not a citizen failed at the
roll-call. General Orbideck, whose seat on horseback was far from firm,
and whose steed was a vicious beast, was thrown three times in front of
the army; but he got up again without injury, and this was regarded as
a favourable omen. The burgomaster, the counsellor, the civil
commissary, the chief justice, the school-teacher, the banker, the
rector,—in short, all the notabilities of the town,—marched at the
head. There were no tears shed, either by mothers, sisters, or
daughters. They urged on their husbands, fathers, brothers, to the
combat, and even followed them and formed the rear-guard, under the
orders of the courageous Madame Van Tricasse.
The crier, Jean Mistrol, blew his trumpet; the army moved off, and
directed itself, with ferocious cries, towards the Oudenarde gate.
At the moment when the head of the column was about to pass the walls
of the town, a man threw himself before it.
“Stop! stop! Fools that you are!” he cried. “Suspend your blows! Let me
shut the valve! You are not changed in nature! You are good citizens,
quiet and peaceable! If you are so excited, it is my master, Doctor
Ox’s, fault! It is an experiment! Under the pretext of lighting your
streets with oxyhydric gas, he has saturated—”
The assistant was beside himself; but he could not finish. At the
instant that the doctor’s secret was about to escape his lips, Doctor
Ox himself pounced upon the unhappy Ygène in an indescribable rage, and
shut his mouth by blows with his fist.
It was a battle. The burgomaster, the counsellor, the dignitaries, who
had stopped short on Ygène’s sudden appearance, carried away in turn by
their exasperation, rushed upon the two strangers, without waiting to
hear either the one or the other.
Doctor Ox and his assistant, beaten and lashed, were about to be
dragged, by order of Van Tricasse, to the round-house, when,—