And seeing who had overheard the dreadful news, La Vigne ran to the
flume-chamber, and the miller scrambled up and reached over him to dip
the first handful. Both stooped within the door, both recoiled, and
both raised a yell which echoed among high rafters in the attic above.
The miller thought Montgomery's entire troop were stealing into the
mill through the flume; for a man's legs protruded from the opening
and wriggled with such vigor that his body instantly followed and he
dropped into the water.

His beholders seized and dragged him out upon the floor; but he
threw off their hands, sprang astride of the door-sill, and stretched
himself to the flume mouth to help another man out of it.

La Vigne ran downstairs shrieking for the priest, as if he had seen
witchcraft. But the miller stood still, with the candle flaring on the
floor behind him, not sure of his son Laurent in militia uniform, but
trembling with some hope.

It was Madame De Mattissart's cry to her husband which confirmed the
miller's senses. She knew the young officer through the drenching
and raggedness of his white and gold uniform; she understood how two
wounded men could creep through any length of flume, from which a
miller's son would know how to turn off the water. She had no need to
ask what their sensations were, sliding down that slimy duct, or how
they entered it without being seen by the enemy. Let villagers talk
over such matters, and shout and exclaim when they came to hear this
strange thing. It was enough that her husband had met her through
every danger, and that he was able to stand and receive her in his
arms.