Yes, he had come, this faithful lover—come, by the Providence of God, in time to save her from the death which had appeared so inevitable, and even now, as he held her in his arms, still loomed all too dangerously near. The garrison of the little town might indeed have proved a stubborn foe had it not been for Job Alloadec’s presence at the gate; and d’Estrailles full well knew the peril he ran in thus snatching reputed witches from death, and that even his own men might turn against him for so doing. But one thing was in his favour: the peasantry had changed from their savage mood of the morning, and had welcomed at first the rescuers. It was an appeal to the romantic side of their natures, but an appeal which d’Estrailles knew would not last. All too soon their slow reasoning would put a different complexion on the affair. That the enemies of their country should thus summarily snatch from them their lawful prey would not commend itself to stubborn Breton pride. The brief pity which the beauty of their victims had inspired would fade away as they remembered their dreaded vocation, and the pleasurable excitement they had anticipated from their sufferings. Therefore there was no time for delay; one brief kiss, one word of joyous assurance, and Henri d’Estrailles had raised Gwennola to his horse’s back, and swinging himself into the saddle, turned to force his way back through the crowd, which already began to murmur as a pack of hungry wolves may howl when they see their prey borne from them into safety. Murmured execrations on the hated Frenchmen rose to a clamour, which, however, was partly subdued by the formidable array which gathered around their leader. At the gate the Breton captain of the guard called them to a halt. He could not understand what had occurred, poor man, so unexpectedly and so suddenly had this intervention of justice taken place. How had it been possible that the gates had been so readily opened? Why was it that these French desired to save a witch from her well-merited punishment? Altogether the mind of Captain Maurice d’Yvec was as chaotic as the crowd behind him. It was easily explained: the demoiselle and her woman, whom the French captain carried away, were no witches; they were falsely accused, as doubtless monsieur would soon be informed. In the meantime, Monsieur d’Estrailles had commands to carry the demoiselle, and also her woman, to Rennes; surely Monsieur le Capitaine would raise no objection when he heard it was the command of Madame la Duchesse herself.