In the center of the Jacques who had formed a circle stood William Caillet reclining on the handle of his heavy axe; near him were Jocelyn the Champion with his arms across his breast, and Mazurec the Lambkin, now the widower of Aveline-who-never-lied. Only partly clad in rough sheep-skin, his hair matted, his arms bare and blood-bespattered, with the cavity of one eye hollow, his nose crushed, his upper lip split--the serf presented a repulsive aspect. Adam the Devil pushed Gloriande towards Mazurec saying: "There is your new husband! Come, my pretty lass, embrace your lord and master!" At the sight of the disfigured serf Gloriande drew back and uttered a cry of fright; but terror palsied her brain when she saw Mazurec slowly advancing upon her with his one eye burning with hatred, and laying his callous hand upon her shoulder say in a hollow voice: "In the name of force ... you are mine ... the same as in the name of force my bride Aveline belonged to Conrad of Nointel...." "What is the monster saying?" muttered the distracted Gloriande drawing back and seeking to free herself from the grasp of the vassal. "Father!... Come to my help, father!" The noble seigneur of Chivry lay nearby bound hand and foot, the same as Gerard of Chaumontel and Conrad of Nointel, the last of whom, out of his senses with fright and crushed with remorse, neither heard nor saw aught, but was muttering between his teeth: "Have mercy upon me, my Lord God!... I am a great sinner.... I repent having outraged that vassal's bride...." "Help, father!" Gloriande continued to cry, ever seeking to escape the grip of Mazurec, whose nails, now long and bent like those of a bird of prey, dug deep into the flesh of the Sire of Nointel's bride and held her firmly while he exclaimed: "This noble damosel is mine!" "Vassal!" cried the seigneur of Chivry gasping for breath and addressing Caillet: "You are the chief of these bandits; save my daughter's life and honor and I promise to pardon you.... Be merciful.... I swear by the living God, I shall remit the punishment that your crimes deserve!" "Noble seigneur," replied the chief of the Jacques with ominously sinister calmness, "the wedding day of the child whom we love is a beautiful day! It is a beautiful day for the nobles--" "Oh, indeed I believed this morning that the wedding day of my daughter Gloriande would be a beautiful day for me." "So did I imagine on the morning of the day when my daughter Aveline-who-never-lied wedded.... A vassal has a father's heart.... I tenderly loved my daughter.... She was a sweet and pure girl, the pride of my miserable life.... Your son-in-law, the Sire of Nointel, had my daughter dragged to his bed ... the next day he returned her to me!" "The Sire of Nointel only exercised the right he has over all brides who are not noble!... It is his right of first fruits.... It is the feudal law!"