They knew the terrible danger they were incurring, and like their captain they constantly repeated: “Faster! Let us march faster!” Vain was the exhortation! The peasantry openly declared that they preferred walking slowly. Soon, indeed they did not walk at all, but came to an abrupt halt. Still it was not hesitation that induced them to pause. The fact was that some of the band, chancing to look back, had perceived the lamps of Mademoiselle de Courtornieu’s carriage gleaming in the darkness. The vehicle came rapidly onward, and soon overtook them. The peasants at once recognized the coachman’s livery, and greeted the carriage with derisive shouts. M. de Courtornieu’s avarice had made him even more enemies than the Duke de Sairmeuse’s pride, and all the peasants who thought they had more or less to complain of his extortions were delighted at this opportunity to frighten him; for as this was his carriage, no doubt he was inside. Hence, their disappointment was great indeed when, on opening the carriage-door, they perceived that the vehicle only contained Blanche and her elderly aunt. The latter shrieked with terror, but her niece, who was certainly a brave girl, haughtily asked: “Who are you? and what do you want?” “You shall know to-morrow,” replied Chanlouineau. “Until then, you are our prisoners.” “I see that you do not know who I am, boy.” “Excuse me. I do know who you are, and, for this very reason, I must request you to alight from your carriage. She must leave the carriage, must she not, M. d’Escorval?” “I won’t leave my carriage,” retorted the infuriated heiress. “Tear me from it if you dare!” They would certainly have dared to do so had it not been for Marie-Anne, who checked several peasants as they were springing towards the vehicle. “Let Mademoiselle de Courtornieu pass without hindrance,” said she. But this permission might produce such serious consequences that Chanlouineau found courage to resist. “That cannot be, Marie-Anne,” said he. “She will warn her father. We must keep her as a hostage; her life may save the lives of our friends.” Blanche had not hitherto recognized her former friend, any more than she had suspected the intentions of the crowd. But Marie-Anne’s name, coupled with that of D’Escorval enlightened her at once. She understood everything, and trembled with rage at the thought that she was at her rival’s mercy. She immediately resolved to place herself under no obligation to Marie-Anne Lacheneur. “Very well,” said she, “we will alight.” But Marie-Anne checked her. “No,” said she, “no! This is not proper company for a young girl.” “For an honest young girl, you should say,” replied Blanche, with a sneer. Chanlouineau was standing only a few feet off with his gun in his hand. If a man had spoken in this manner he would certainly have killed him on the spot.