A trap-door creaked, and the restless stamping of horse-hoofs proved welcome sound enough.
They had reached the stables of Varenac. But no moment must be lost, for they had a Trouet to reckon with besides these addle-pated peasants.
Already they were leading out the horses. Three of them,—for Koustak had declared that he must remain—his daughter Olérie was here, and he could never leave Varenac.
Shouts and yells told of fury and disappointment in the Manor close by.
Had they found their Citoyen yet?
A faint moonlight showed the fugitives a wild stretch of desolate moor and forest. Yonder lay Kérnak.
What was happening there?
It was the fearful question of each heart.
"Le jour de gloire est arrivé."
Dark forms were already seen hurrying from the house. Trouet had bethought himself of the stables.