--they stood by and
allowed Blaise to lift the half-swooning girl to the withers of his
horse. No reply had they to the coarse jest with which he and his
fellow-servant rode off. But La Boulaye, who, from the point where he
and Duhamel had halted, had observed the whole scene from its inception,
turned now a livid face upon his companion.

"Shall such things be?" he cried passionately. "Merciful God! Are we
men, Duhamel, and do we permit such things to take place?"

The old pedagogue shrugged his shoulders in despair. His face was
heavily scored by sorrow.

"Helas!" he sighed. "Are they not masters of all that they may take? The
Marquis goes no further than is by ancient law allowed his class. It
is the law needs altering, my friend, and then the men will alter.
Meanwhile, behold them--lords of life and death."

"Lords of hell are they!" blazed the young revolutionist. "That is
where they belong, whence they are come, and whither they shall return.
Poltroons!" he cried, shaking his fist at the group of cowed peasants
that surrounded the prostrate Charlot "Sheep! Worthless clods! The
nobles do well to despise you, for, by my faith, you invite nothing but
contempt, you that will suffer rape and murder to be done under your
eyes, and never do more than look scared encouragement upon your
ravishers!"

"Blame not these poor wretches, Caron," sighed the old man. "They dare
not raise a hand."

"Then, pardieu! here, at least, is one who does dare," he cried
furiously, as from the breast pocket of his coat he drew a pistol.

Blaise, with the girl across the withers of his horse, was approaching
them, followed by Jean.

"What would you do?" cried the old man fearfully, setting a restraining
hand upon La Boulaye's sleeve. But Caron shook himself free.

"This," was all he answered, and simultaneously, he levelled his pistol
and fired at Blaise.

Shot through the head, the servant collapsed forward; then, as the horse
reared and started off at a gallop, he toppled sideways and fell. The
girl went down with him and lay in the road whilst he was dragged along,
his head bumping horribly on the stones as faster and faster went the
frightened horse.

With a shout that may have been either anger or dismay Jean reined
in his horse, and sat for a second hesitating whether to begin by
recovering the girl, or avenging his comrade. But his doubts were solved
for him by La Boulaye, who took a deliberate aim at him.

"Begone!" cr