An electric current seemed to run through the hitherto passive spectators, and every eye was riveted on the daring speaker. He seemed to be little more than a boy in years, but ripened by religious enthusiasm into manhood. A half-suppressed sound swept over that dense throng – an ugly sound to hear from human throats, for it was the angry growl of the wild beast which lies sleeping but not dead in the breast of every man, civilize him as best you may.
At first the burghers as well as the soldiers were paralyzed by the sudden apparition. Then the people roused themselves, and cries of “Freedom for the Protestants! Down with the papist bloodhounds!” were heard. That young voice and inspired face had broken the spell, and as hot, passionate words poured from the lips of this apostle of freedom, every one hung spellbound on his words. Yet no one dared to act. Terror paralyzed every arm. It was only when, snatching a knife from a burgher’s belt, Hugo cut the cords which bound the prisoner, that the people responded. A mighty shout went up, “Saved! Saved!” as they seized Junius and passed him rapidly into the midst of the crowd. Once lost in that seething mass of humanity, there was little danger of recapture.
But what of Hugo?
The soldiers roused from their stupor. Not recognizing in the bold defender of the heretic
