"Then give her to me," I cried, "for I swear she is nearer to Heaven in my arms than yours."
The woman's black eyes flashed terrible things at me, and she wound herself round Isobel with a marvellous strength. For a moment I was helpless.
"Madame," I said, "I have never yet raised my hand against a woman, but if you do not release that girl this moment I shall have to forget your sex."
"Never!" she shrieked. "Help! Baron! Cocher!"
Some blue-bloused men looked up from their work in the vineyards a long way off. It was no time for hesitation. I set my teeth, and I caught hold of the woman's arms. Her bones cracked in my hands before she let go. Isobel at last was free!
"Jump up and get in the automobile, Isobel!" I said. "Bear up, dear! It is only for a moment now."
Half fainting she staggered out and groped her way across the road. Once she nearly fell, but my chauffeur leaped down and caught her. Then Madame Richard looked in my eyes and cursed me with slow, solemn words.
I sprang away from her. She followed. I jumped into the automobile. She stood in front of it and dared us to start. The driver backed a little, suddenly shot forward, and with a wonderful curve avoided her. She ran to meet the peasants who were streaming now across the fields. We could hear for a few minutes her shrill cries to them. Then the vineyards became patchwork, and the still air a rushing wind. Our chauffeur sat grim and motionless, like a figure of fate, and we did our forty miles an hour.
"You have orders?" I asked him once.
"But yes, Monsieur," he answered. "We go to Paris—and avoid the telegraph offices."