The village buzzed like a startled hive, women bent white faces over their household tasks, men shuffled embarrassed feet at the inn, glancing suspiciously at one another, and all avoiding Mathieu’s hard black eyes. At the white house Commissioner Brutus Carré occupied Mlle Marthe’s sunny room, whilst Ange and Aline sat under lock and key, and heard wild oaths and viler songs defile the peaceful precincts. Up at the mill, Madelon lay abed with her newborn son at her breast. Strange how the softness and the warmth of him stirred her heart, braced it, and gave her a courage which amazed Jean Jacques. She lay, a little pale, but quite composed, and fixed her round brown eyes upon her father’s scowling face. In the background Jean Jacques stood stolidly. He was quite ready to strangle Mathieu with those strong hands of his, but had sufficient wit to realise that such a proceeding would probably not help Madelon. "They were here!" vociferated Mathieu loudly. "You took them in, you concealed them, you helped them to get away. You thought you had cheated me finely, you and that oaf who stands there; and you thought me a good, easy man, one who would cover your fault because you were his daughter. I tell you I am a patriot, I! If my daughter betrays the Republic shall I shield her? I say no, a thousand times no!" Madelon’s clear gaze never wavered. Her arm held her baby tight, and if her heart beat heavily no one heard it except the child, who whimpered a little and put groping hands against her breast. "Then you mean to denounce me?" she said quite low. "Denounce you! Yes, you ’re no daughter of mine! Every one shall know that you are a traitress." "And my baby?" asked Madelon. Leroux cursed it aloud, and the child, frightened by the harsh voice, burst into a lusty wailing that took all its mother’s tender hushing to still. When she looked at her father again there was something very bright and intent in her expression. "Very well, my father," she said; "it is understood that you denounce me. Do you perhaps suppose that I shall hold my tongue?" "Say what you like, and be damned to you!" shouted Mathieu. Jean Jacques clenched his hands and took a step forward, but his wife’s expression checked him. "I may say what I like?" she observed. "The more the better. Why, see here, Madelon, if you will give evidence against Ange Desaix and her niece, I ’ll do my best to get you off." "Why, what has Mlle Ange to do with it?" said Madelon, open-eyed. Leroux became speechless for a moment. Then he swore volubly, and cursed Madelon for a liar. "A liar, and a damned fool!" he spluttered. "For now I ’ll not lift a finger for you, my girl, and when you see the guillotine ready for you, perhaps you ’ll wish you ’d kept a civil tongue in your head." "Enough!" said Madelon sharply. "Let us understand each other. If you speak, I speak too. If you accuse me, I accuse you." "Accuse me, accuse me,—and of what?" Madelon’s eyes flashed.