"Then, gentlemen," went on Isidore, "there are moments when a human life is of no account. Pick out your man; I will settle this one. We will drive ourselves."
He grasped the nearest postillion by the collar and set the point of his short sword to his breast.
On seeing the three knives flash, the Queen screamed and cried:
"Mercy, gentlemen!"
She turned to the postboys:
"Friends, fifty gold pieces to share among you, and a pension of five hundred a-year if you save the King!"
Whether they were frightened by the young nobles' demonstration or snapped at the offer, the three shook up their horses and resumed the road.
Prefontaine sneaked into his house all of a tremble and barred himself in.
Isidore rode on in front to clear the way through the town and over the bridge to the Monarch House.