“I won’t leave my carriage,” retorted the infuriated heiress. “Tear me from it if you dare!”
They would certainly have dared to do so had it not been for Marie-Anne, who checked several peasants as they were springing towards the vehicle. “Let Mademoiselle de Courtornieu pass without hindrance,” said she.
But this permission might produce such serious consequences that Chanlouineau found courage to resist. “That cannot be, Marie-Anne,” said he. “She will warn her father. We must keep her as a hostage; her life may save the lives of our friends.”
Blanche had not hitherto recognized her former friend, any more than she had suspected the intentions of the crowd. But Marie-Anne’s name, coupled with that of D’Escorval enlightened her at once. She understood everything, and trembled with rage at the thought that she was at her rival’s mercy. She immediately resolved to place herself under no obligation to Marie-Anne Lacheneur.
“Very well,” said she, “we will alight.”
But Marie-Anne checked her. “No,” said she, “no! This is not proper company for a young girl.”
“For an honest young girl, you should say,” replied Blanche, with a sneer.
Chanlouineau was standing only a few feet off with his gun in his hand. If a man had spoken in this manner he would certainly have killed him on the spot.
“Mademoiselle will turn back,” calmly rejoined Marie-Anne, disdaining to notice the insult which her former friend’s words implied. “As she can reach Montaignac by the other road, two men will accompany her as far as Courtornieu.”
The order was obeyed. The carriage turned and rolled away, though not before Blanche had found time to cry: “Beware, Marie-Anne! I will make you pay dearly for your insulting patronage!”