This sturdy peasant came forward, brandishing his gun.

"We are wasting too much time in foolish prattling," he exclaimed with a
fierce oath.

Lacheneur started as if he had been struck by a whip. He rudely freed
himself and leaped into the saddle.

"Forward!" he ordered.

But the baron and the priest did not yet despair; they sprang to the
horse's head.

"Lacheneur," cried the priest, "beware! The blood you are about to spill
will fall upon your head, and upon the heads of your children!"

Appalled by these prophetic words, the little band paused.

Then someone issued from the ranks, clad in the costume of a peasant.

"Marie-Anne!" exclaimed the abbe and the baron in the same breath.

"Yes, I," responded the young girl, removing the large hat which had
partially concealed her face; "I wish to share the dangers of those who
are dear to me--share in their victory or their defeat. Your counsel
comes too late, gentlemen. Do you see those lights on the horizon?
They tell us that the people of these communes are repairing to the
cross-roads at the Croix d'Arcy, the general rendezvous. Before two
o'clock fifteen hundred men will be gathered there awaiting my father's