It is impossible to say what might have happened had it not been for the intervention of Chanlouineau.
This sturdy peasant came forward, brandishing his gun.
“We are wasting too much time in foolish prattling,” he exclaimed with a fierce oath.
Lacheneur started as if he had been struck by a whip. He rudely freed himself and leaped into the saddle.
“Forward!” he ordered.
But the baron and the priest did not yet despair; they sprang to the horse’s head.
“Lacheneur,” cried the priest, “beware! The blood you are about to spill will fall upon your head, and upon the heads of your children!”
Appalled by these prophetic words, the little band paused.
Then someone issued from the ranks, clad in the costume of a peasant.
“Marie-Anne!” exclaimed the abbe and the baron in the same breath.