It the two sons of one of these men, of whom mention has been made,
were furious in their zeal before, they had now the wrath and vigour of
lions. Calling to the man within each cell, to keep as far back as he
could, lest the axes crashing through the door should wound him, a party
went to work upon each one, to beat it in by sheer strength, and force
the bolts and staples from their hold. But although these two lads had
the weakest party, and the worst armed, and did not begin until after
the others, having stopped to whisper to him through the grate, that
door was the first open, and that man was the first out. As they dragged
him into the gallery to knock off his irons, he fell down among them,
a mere heap of chains, and was carried out in that state on men's
shoulders, with no sign of life.
The release of these four wretched creatures, and conveying them,
astounded and bewildered, into the streets so full of life--a spectacle
they had never thought to see again, until they emerged from solitude
and silence upon that last journey, when the air should be heavy with
the pent-up breath of thousands, and the streets and houses should
be built and roofed with human faces, not with bricks and tiles and
stones--was the crowning horror of the scene.
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