"Begone with you all," cried old Joubard, "for a pack of thieves and murderers! You are a disgrace to the Emperor, his police and his army!"
"Silence, old fool!" shouted Ratoneau. "What do you say about murder, you idiot? Did you never hear of a man being killed in a duel? Come down, some of you, I say, or I force my way in."
He would have done so, and easily, but for a sudden interruption.
There was a wild howl of pain from among the trees beyond the kitchen, where one of Monsieur Joseph's faithful dogs followed him to the land where all faithfulness is perhaps rewarded; and then the gendarme whom Joubard had tied to a tree came running down to the house with the comrade who had freed him and killed his guard. He was eager to tell the General what he had seen while every one but himself was away in the western wood. He had seen two women and a child escape from the house, and hurry away by the footpath under the trees towards La Marinière. One of the women was dressed in white; he could see it under her cloak; she spoke, and it was a lady's voice; they had passed quite near him. How long ago? Well, perhaps a quarter of an hour. General Ratoneau stamped his foot and ground his teeth.
"Bring my horse!" he said; and then he looked up again at the window, at old Joubard's stern face watching him.
"Monsieur Ange de la Marinière!" he shouted in tones of thunder. "Come out of your hole, little coward, if you are there. I will teach you to marry against the Emperor's commands! You shall meet me before you see your wife again. I will give account of you, and I will have what is my own. What! you dare not come out? Then follow me to Sonnay, monsieur, by way of La Marinière."
He flung himself into the saddle and rode off at a furious pace, turning round to shout back to Simon, "I shall overtake her! Go on—shoot them all—burn the house, if you must."
His horse plunged down into the shadows of the narrow lane, and they heard the heavy thud of its hoofs as it galloped away.