"Yes, monseigneur," observed Tankeru in a hollow voice that now waxed threatening. "With the rise of the moon, the tocsin was rung in all the parishes of your seigniories of Plouernel and Mezlean--it is now ringing at Rennes--at Nantes--at Quimper, where the fight is on. Everywhere the revolt is on--war everywhere--in case our seigneurs refuse to accept the Peasant Code. Decide on the spot!" And pointing with his hand in the direction of the avenue to the castle, where the troop of armed vassals was assembled, the blacksmith added: "All the people of Plouernel and other parishes are yonder under arms; they are waiting for your answer, monseigneur! It will be peace, if you sign the Peasant Code and deliver us the prisoners; if not--fire and flames!--it will be war! War without mercy towards you, as you have been towards us, merciless and pitiless." "Sergeant! Kill these rebels with your bayonets, or the brigands down the avenue will hear the fire of your muskets and run to their help!" suddenly ordered the Count of Plouernel addressing Sergeant La Montagne, who, at the head of his men and hidden in the dark, had noiselessly crept along the façade of the castle. "This way, foresters!" added the Count in a ringing voice. "The castle is going to be attacked! Kill, kill the malignant rustic plebs--kill them all!" "Run the clowns through! Let not one escape! Head and bowels! They tried to disarm us on the road to Mezlean!" cried Sergeant La Montagne. "This is our revenge! Prick them through and through! Death to the rustics!" At the word of command the soldiers suddenly rushed forth upon the staircase, charging Tankeru and his companions with their bayonets.