They rushed in pursuit of her, and Maurice was the first to find her, standing in the centre of the open space clinging to the neck of her father’s horse. He took her in his arms, trying to drag her away. “Come!” said he, “come!” But she refused. “Leave me, leave me!” she entreated. “But all is lost!” “Yes, I know that all is lost--even honour. Leave me here. I must remain; I must die, and thus hide my shame. It must, it shall be so!” Just then Chanlouineau reached them. Had he divined the secret of her resistance? Perhaps so, but at all events without uttering a word, he lifted her in his strong arms as if she had been a child, and carried her to the cabriolet, beside which the Abbe Midon was standing. “Get in,” he said, addressing the priest, “and quick--take Mademoiselle Lacheneur. Now, Maurice it’s your turn!” But the duke’s soldiers were already masters of the field. They had perceived this little group and hastened forward. Brave Chanlouineau certainly was. He seized his gun, and brandishing it like a club managed to hold the enemy at bay, while Maurice sprang into the carriage, caught the reins and started the horse off at a gallop. All the cowardice and all the heroism displayed on that terrible night will never be really known. Two minutes after the departure of the vehicle, Chanlouineau was still battling with the foe. He had at least a dozen men to deal with. Twenty shots had been fired, and yet he was unwounded, and his enemies almost believed him to be invulnerable. “Surrender!” cried the soldiers, amazed by his bravery; “surrender!” “Never! never!” he shrieked in reply, at the same time warding his assailants off with well-nigh superhuman strength and agility. The struggle might have lasted some time longer, had not one of the soldiers managed to crawl behind him, without being perceived. This linesman seized Chanlouineau by the legs, and although the latter struggled furiously, he was taken at such a disadvantage that further resistance was impossible. He fell to the ground with a loud cry of “Help! friends, help!” But no one responded to this appeal. At the other end of the open space those upon whom he called had virtually yielded, after a desperate struggle. The main body of the duke’s infantry was near at hand. The rebels could hear the drums beating the charge; and see the bayonets gleaming in the moonlight.