The struggle between Smeagollo and his guardians continued, but, although grabbing from behind was an old game of his, it failed to have any final effect on his current predicament. The public, enraged against him, cried "Death!" in a loud voice. Arafrantz cast his hood over his face.
"What are you doing?" said the Count, seizing him and throwing his hood back. "Pity? For a wretch who murdered his own benefactor, although no one had done him harm, and now would slay yet another, his comrade in misfortune, were his hands not tied – in short, a sneak who means to throttle victims in their sleep and drink their blood, who even cuts down trees that he should not? Ma foi, your pity is well-placed! He deserves death. No, look!"
Despite all his efforts, Smeagollo was placed in the cauldron and goblinated.
"I feel sick," said Réginard, gagging as if caught in the dust-heap of L'Anfauglisse. Arafrantz did not speak. The Count stood erect, with the triumphant smile of a Balrogue.
