At sight of the bare swords, Miretta said to her companion:
"Come, push on, Cédrille! beat your horse! Let us get away from here, or some disaster will happen to us."
The peasant shook Bourriquet's rein with no gentle force; but although the beast no longer felt a hand on his bit, he stood like a statue in his tracks, and, in spite of the urging of his rider, refused to advance a step, terrified doubtless by the noise that he heard and by the crowd that stood in a circle about him.
Meanwhile, the young men again approached, half threateningly, half laughingly; they brandished their swords, and some of the points were already in contact with the dogwood staff which Cédrille continued to handle with much address, while they shouted in his ears:
"Down! down, rustic!"
"Dismount at once, and ask our pardon on your knees!"
"Yes, let him apologize! or else we will carry off the girl!"
"And Bourriquet too!"
"And we will break the staff over Cédrille's back!"
"Break my staff!—Oh! jarnidieu! there's more than one of you who will have a few ribs broken first!"