Salaun Lebrenn broke off. He noticed that he and his two companions had fallen into a sort of ambush. While simulating great attention to what was being said to him, the sergeant had whispered a few words to his corporal, and the latter, obeying the orders given him, had disposed his soldiers in such manner that the three Bretons found themselves surrounded from all sides, and unable to rejoin their friends. Addressing himself thereupon to Salaun Lebrenn, who, no less surprised than his two friends at finding himself obviously treated as a prisoner, looked at his companions in amazement, the sergeant said sneeringly:
"Your promise notwithstanding, that none of those woolen bonnets will be allowed to run off, I prefer something more substantial than a promise, rather than to have to chase all over this devilish country that is so cut up with moats and hedges. I shall hold you as hostages, you and your two companions. You are the chiefs of the band. You will be a guarantee for the rest. If any one of them escapes, you will go to prison, and stay there until each of you will have paid me two gold louis—besides six pistoles for my men. That's the end of it. I want no answer or further remarks from you. Forward!"
"So, then, you arrest us?" observed Salaun calmly. "Besides, you place us under ransom. But what do you charge us with? What crime are we guilty of, sergeant?"
"You double rustic! I charge you with speaking when I order you to hold your tongue! Head and bowels! Forward, or I shall knock you down!" cried the petty officer brutally, raising his cane; and stroking his moustache he proceeded:
"Oh, there is the wedding! The bride may, perhaps, be worth rumpling! Bah! She probably is but one of their big flat-footed wenches! And yet, who knows! We shall see! Drummers, beat the march!"
When Paskou the Long heard the sergeant's allusions to the bride, he raised his two long arms to heaven; Madok the miller, a resolute man, clenched his fists, and casting a defiant look at the soldier, was about to explode, when he was restrained by a sign from Salaun. Madok yielded to his friend, realizing that it would be an act of madness to attempt, under the circumstances, a struggle against the armed men. Surrounded by these, the three Bretons resigned themselves to move forward, leading their mounts by the bridle. The detachment resumed its march, drums beating and bell ringing, towards the nuptial procession. The sergeant walked ahead.
Such was the terror with which the soldiers of Louis XIV inspired the poor folks of our country districts, that at the first sight of the red-coats the children threw themselves weeping into their mothers' arms; the young girls drew timidly close to their parents; and a good number of the vassals began to tremble, while the blacksmith and other determined men of his stamp could hardly control their anger. At this place the road was narrowed between two bluffs topped with brush. The detachment divided in two. One-half halted at the head of the procession in order to bar its passage, should it attempt to proceed; the other half marched on to the rear in order to cut off the retreat.
Kept as hostages in the midst of the rear guard platoon, Salaun Lebrenn, Paskou the Long and Madok the miller were unable to approach their friends. Nominoë, with his wife on the crupper of his horse, saw with as much surprise as anxiety his father a prisoner of the soldiers.
"Let none of you budge or breathe, ye rustics! If you do, by God's death! my men will open fire, and will rip you open with their bayonets!" cried Sergeant La Montagne, stepping with his cane raised towards the peasants, who crowded back upon one another in order to make room for him.
Turning thereupon to the bailiff and the usher: