The distance between the two dwellings was so short; the rustics had spread helter-skelter in so many directions, that the movements of their betters were rapidly ascertained. One party, which had made for Lorge, found the gates wide open, the mansion apparently deserted, and were about to prosecute the search elsewhere, when Jean Boulot appeared upon the scene, declaring that his love was a prisoner. A further search was made, and lying in her bed they found Toinon, a prey to stony despair. Brave girl as she was, she had given way to despondency, for what could two women do against such a close and small-meshed network of foes--absolutely friendless and forlorn? But here was Jean at last, faithful and true, at the head of a rabblement. With a cry she fell upon his breast, and sobbed there as if her heart were broken, while he thanked Heaven for her safety. The servants had one and all decamped with such valuables as were easily carried. There was no sign of Mademoiselle Brunelle. To linger here was wasting time. Somebody had seen the abbé and the chevalier spurring like maniacs in the direction of Montbazon. "To Montbazon--to Montbazon," was the general shout, and as the crowd moved rapidly thitherward, its numbers were each moment augmented by newcomers armed with scythes and staves, who each had something to tell. The Marquis de Gange had been seen galloping to Montbazon, the baron and many of the Seigneurie also. Montbazon, by will of avenging Providence, had become a vermin trap which was full, and, please Heaven, not one should escape.