ers, surprised at the attitude and mute resignation of the
Goualeuse, hesitated a moment in the accomplishment of their savage
design; but, rallied on their folly and irresolution by the female part
of the assemblage, they recommenced their uproarious cries, as though to
inspire themselves with the necessary courage to complete their wicked
purpose.

Just as two of the most furious of the party were about to seize on
Fleur-de-Marie a loud, thrilling voice was heard, exclaiming:

"Stop! I command you!"

And at the very instant Madame Georges, who had forced a passage through
the crowd, reached the still kneeling Goualeuse, took her in her arms,
and, raising her, cried:

"Rise up, my child! Stand up, my beloved daughter! the knee should be
bent to God alone!"

The expression and attitude of Madame Georges were so full of courageous
firmness that the actors in this cruel scene shrunk back speechless and
confounded. Indignation coloured her usually pale features, and casting
on the labourers a stern look she said to them, in a loud and
threatening voice:

"Wretches! Are you not ashamed of such brutal conduct to a helpless girl
like this?"

"She is--"

"My daughter!" exclaimed Madame Georges, with severity, and abruptly
interrupting the man who was about to speak, "and, as such, both
cherished and protected by our worthy cure, M. l'Abbe Laporte, whom
every one venerates and loves; and those whom he loves and esteems ought
to be respected by every one!"

These simple words effectually imposed silence on the crowd. The cure of
Bouqueval was looked upon throughout his district almost as a saint, and
many there present were well aware of the interest he took in the
Goualeuse. Still a confused murmur went on, and Madame Georges, fully
comprehending its import, added:

"Suppose this poor girl were the very worst of creatures--the most
abandoned of her sex--your conduct is not the less disgraceful! What
offence has she committed? And what right have you to punish her?--you,
who call yourselves men, to exert your strength and power against one
poor, feeble, unresisting female! Surely it was a cowardly action all to
unite against a defenceless girl! Come, Marie! come, child of my heart!
let us return home; there, at least, you are known, and justly
appreciated."

Madame Georges took the arm of Fleur-de-Marie, while the labourers,
ashamed of their conduct, the impropriety of which they now perceived,
respectfully dispe