While the thousand casualties were precipitated upon each other, Baron Taverney escaped all the dangers by some miracle.
An old rake, and hardened in cynicism, he seemed the least likely to be so favored, but he maintained himself in the thick of a cluster by his skill and coolness, while incapable of exerting force against the devouring panic. His group, bruised against the Royal Storehouse, and brushed along the square railings, left a long trail of dead and dying on both flanks but, though decimated, its centre was kept out of peril.
Sign in to unlock this title
Sign in to continue reading, it's free! As an unregistered user you can only read a little bit.
