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Author: Charles Dickens

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Hear me, my dead baby and my withered father: I swear on my
knees, on these stones, to avenge you on Foulon! Husbands, and
brothers, and young men, Give us the blood of Foulon, Give us the
head of Foulon, Give us the heart of Foulon, Give us the body and
soul of Foulon, Rend Foulon to pieces, and dig him into the
ground, that grass may grow from him! With these cries, numbers
of the women, lashed into blind frenzy, whirled about, striking
and tearing at their own friends until they dropped into a
passionate swoon, and were only saved by the men belonging to
them from being trampled under foot.

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