cely, and
instantly fired.

An unseen hand struck his arm as he pulled the trigger. I felt my hat
quiver upon my head as I sprung forward. The Baron had no time to fire
again. I caught him by the throat and dragged him into the road.

"I have had more than enough of you, you blackguard," I muttered, and I
shook him till he groaned, and threw him across the road.

Isobel stretched out her arms to me--Isobel herself, but how pale and
changed!

"Arnold, Arnold, take me away!" she moaned.

I would have lifted her out, but Madame Richard had seized her.

"The child is vowed," she said. "You shall not touch her. She belongs to
God."

"Then give her to me," I cried, "for I swear she is nearer to Heaven in
my arms than yours."

The woman's black eyes flashed terrible things at me, and she wound
herself round Isobel with a marvellous strength. For a moment I was
helpless.

"Madame," I said, "I have never yet raised my hand against a woman, but
if you do not release that girl this moment I shall have to forget your
sex."

"Never!" she shrieked. "Help! Baron! Cocher!"

Some blue-bloused men looked up from their work in the vineyards a long
way off. It was no time for hesitation. I set my teeth, and I caught
hold of the woman's arms. Her bones cracked in my hands before she let
go. Isobel at last was free!

"Jump up and get in the automobile, Isobel!" I said. "Bear up, dear! It
is only for a moment now."

Half fainting she staggered out and groped her way across the road. Once
she nearly fell, but my _chauffeur_ leaped down and caught her. Then
Madame Richard looked in my eyes and cursed me with slow, solemn words.

I sprang away from her. She followed. I jumped into the automobile. She
stood in front of it and dared us to start. The driver backed a little,
suddenly shot forward, and with a wonderful curve avoided her. She ran
to meet the peasants who were streaming now across the fields. We could
hear for a few minutes her shrill cries to them. Then the vineyards
became patchwork, and the still air a rushing wind. Our _chauffeur_ sat
grim and motionless, like a figure of fate, and we did our forty miles
an hour.

"You have orders?" I asked him once.

"But yes, Monsieur," he answered. "We go to Paris--and avoid the
telegraph offices."

All the while Isobel was only partially conscious. Gradually, however,
her colour became more natural, and at last she opened her eyes and
smiled at me. Her fingers faintly pr