The peasants listened to the reading of the preceding jargon with increasing consternation and rage, but without astonishment, similar seizures being matters of daily recurrence in Brittany and in all the other provinces of France. But what, on that day, drove the indignation of the peasants to the point of rage was the insolence of Sergeant La Montagne. While the bailiff and the usher reeled off their legal jargon, the insolent swash-buckler approached Tina, and, with his plumage dangling over his ear, stretching out his legs, arching himself in his gallooned coat, and stroking his moustache with one hand, while with the other he caressed the hilt of his sword, he pursued the young bride with his brazen looks. Tina turned her head away, and took shelter behind the back of Nominoë, who, outraged by the soldier's audacity, was livid with anger. Nevertheless, he restrained himself; in order to preserve his self-control all the more fully, he sought to move a little further to the rear; but the moment he made his horse take a few steps backward, the sergeant seized the bridle rudely and kept the animal motionless. The peasants who saw the sergeant's conduct, began to grumble. But he, casting a disdainful look at them and brandishing his cane, shouted: "Head and bowels! Meseems these rustics are raising objections! By God's death, I'll know how to bring you to your senses!" "Think of your wives--your daughters--your children! Patience! patience!" cried Salaun Lebrenn in a loud voice from among the platoon of soldiers who held him, Paskou the Long and the miller at a distance. "All keep cool, and have patience, my friends!" The wise warning of Salaun Lebrenn was hearkened to. The grumbling ceased. La Montagne, attributing the resignation of the peasants to the fear that he inspired, redoubled in audacity. Brutally placing one hand upon Tina's knees, who sat upon the crupper of Nominoë's horse, he said to her: "God's blood! Look at me, my pretty lassie! Fear not, my pretty maid--my moustache causes only men to tremble," he added, fastening a look of contempt upon Nominoë. Thereupon, carrying outrage to its climax, the sergeant raised himself on tip-toe, passed his arm around Tina's waist, and drawing her to him, said: "Give me a sweet kiss! God's death! it is the meed of the brave!" Nominoë was without arms; but with a movement that was swifter than thought, he drew his foot from the stirrup, and with a kick of his heel, vigorously planted in the sergeant's chest, he hurled him reeling upon Tankeru, who was rushing to the defense of his daughter. The blacksmith gripped the swash-buckler by the neck and threw him flat upon the ground. "Help, soldiers!" bellowed the sergeant as Tankeru threw him down. "To the rescue!" Those of the soldiers who happened to be near their chief sought to rush to his aid, but finding themselves quickly surrounded and closely hemmed in by the more resolute of the peasants, they were unable to ply their bayonets.