ns, to him. We must find you a wedding gift, little woman,"
he continued more briskly. "It is an ancient and honoured custom that is
falling somewhat into neglect. Go up to the Chateau with Blaise and Jean
there. This good Tardivet must curb his impatience until to-morrow."

He turned in his saddle, and beckoning the two servants he had named, he
bade Marie to mount behind Blaise.

She drew back now, her cheeks white as those of the dead. With a wild
terror in her eyes she turned to Charlot, who stood the very picture of
anguish and impotent rage. In the cortege, where but a few moments ago
all had been laughter, a sob or two sounded now from some of the women.

"By my faith," laughed Bellecour contemptuously eyeing their dejection,
"you have more the air of a burial than a bridal party."

"Mercy my lord!" cried the agonised voice of Charlot, as, distraught
with grief, he flung himself before the Marquis.

"Who seeks to harm you, fool?" was Bellecour's half-derisive rejoinder.

"Do not take her from me, my lord," the young man pleaded piteously.

"She shall return to-morrow, booby," answered the noble. "Out of the
way!"

But Charlot was obstinate. The Marquis might be claiming no more than
by ancient law was the due of the Seigneur, but Charlot was by no means
minded to submit in craven acquiescence to that brutal, barbarous law.

"My lord," he cried, "you shall not take her. She is my wife. She
belongs to me. You shall not take her!"

He caught hold of the Marquis's bridle with such a strength and angry
will that the horse was forced to back before him.

"Insolent clod!" exclaimed Bellecour, with an angry laugh and a sharp,
downward blow of the butt of his whip upon the peasant's head. Charlot's
hand grew nerveless and released the bridle as he sank stunned to the
ground. Bellecour touched his horse with the spur and rode over the
prostrate fellow with no more concern than had he been a dog's carcase.
"Blaise, see to the girl," he called over his shoulder, adding to his
company: "Come, messieurs, we have wasted time enough."

Not a hand was raised to stay him, not a word of protest uttered, as the
nobles rode by, laughing, and chatting among themselves, with the utmost
unconcern of the tragedy that was being enacted.

Like a flock of frightened sheep the peasants stood huddled together and
watched them go. In the same inaction--for all that not a little grief
was blent with the terror on their countenances