This man, who stood in the midst of the crowd, taller by the head than the others, seemed to be the leader of the party; they were disputing whether they should proceed further, spend the remainder of the night in the village alehouse, or return to Paris. Their leader ordered spirits to be distributed to his associates, and exhorted them in a loud voice to proceed in their glorious work. Tossing his firebrand over his head, he declared that he would never return to Paris till he had razed to the ground the Château de Fleury. At these words, Victoire, forgetful of all personal danger, ran out into the midst of the mob, pressed her way up to the leader of these ruffians, caught him by the arm, exclaiming, “You will not touch a stone in the Château de Fleury--I have my reasons--I say you will not suffer a stone in the Château de Fleury to be touched.” “And why not?” cried the man, turning astonished; “and who are you, that I should listen to you?” “No matter who I am,” said Victoire; “follow me, and I will show you one to whom you will not refuse to listen. Here!--here she is,” continued Victoire, pointing to the nun, who had followed her in amazement; “here is one to whom you will listen--yes, look at her well: hold the light to her face.” The nun, in a supplicating attitude, stood in speechless expectation. “Ay, I see you have gratitude, I know you will have mercy,” cried Victoire, watching the workings in the countenance of the man; “you will save the Château de Fleury, for her sake--who saved your life.” “I will,” cried this astonished chief of a mob, fired with sudden generosity. “By my faith you are a brave girl, and a fine girl, and know how to speak to the heart, and in the right moment. Friends, citizens! this nun, though she is a nun, is good for something. When I lay ill with a fever, and not a soul else to help me, she came and gave me medicines and food--in short, I owe my life to her. ‘Tis ten years ago, but I remember it well; and now it is our turn to rule, and she shall be paid as she deserves. Not a stone of the Château de Fleury shall be touched!” With loud acclamations, the mob joined in the generous enthusiasm of the moment, and followed their leader peaceably out of the village. All this passed with such rapidity as scarcely to leave the impression of reality upon the mind. As soon as the sun rose in the morning, Victoire looked out for the turrets of the Château de Fleury, and she saw that they were safe--safe in the midst of the surrounding devastation. Nothing remained of the superb palace of Chantilly but the white arches of its foundation! CHAPTER XIII.