“Seize her, Hubert,” shouted the priest.
The big burly man, addressed, rushed after her. Aline swung round suddenly and hit him unexpectedly with her staff on the side of his head and darted on.
The man gave a great yell and the crowd roared with laughter, which doubled his rage and, drawing his sword, he dashed again in pursuit. Aline was fleet and reached the library door before he was half way across the quadrangle.
She feverishly grasped the handle.
Alas, it was locked.
As she turned back, Hubert nearly reached the bottom of the steps. Four more paces and his sword would be through her.
The heavy man took a great stride half-way up the stair. The hunted child stood at bay.
How frail and slight she seemed; only a delicate flower ineffectively beautiful. The crowd stood motionless and held their breath, while some closed their eyes.
Hubert laughed at the absurd sight of the child barring his way. She could no longer hit him unawares; he was armed and ready, he expected nothing; when Aline, quick as lightning, by a dexterous turn of her staff, twisted the sword out of his hand, and lunging forward, caught him under the chin with her full force so that the big man overbalanced and fell backward down the steps, stunned.