What was the Vidame about to do?  I shuddered as I asked myself.  Not surrender him, not fling him bodily to the people?  No not that:  I felt sure he would let no others share his vengeance that his pride would not suffer that.  And even while I wondered the doubt was solved.  I saw Bezers raise his hand in a peculiar fashion.  Simultaneously a cry rang sharply out above the tumult, and down in headlong charge towards the farther steps came the band of horsemen, who had got clear of the crowd on that side.  They were but ten or twelve, but under his eye they charged, as if they had been a thousand.  The rabble shrank from the collision, and fled aside.  Quick as thought the riders swerved; and changing their course, galloped through the looser part of the throng, and in a trice drew rein side by side with us, a laugh and a jeer on their reckless lips.

It was neatly done:  and while it was being done the Vidame and his knot of men, with those who had been searching the building, hurried down the gallery towards us, their rear cleared for the moment by the troopers’ feint.  The dismounted men came bundling down the steps, their eyes aglow with the war-fire, and got horses as they could.  Among them I lost sight of Louis, but perceived him presently, pale and bewildered, mounted behind a trooper.  A man sprang up before each of us too, greeting our appearance merely by a grunt of surprise.  For it was no time to ask or answer.  The mob was recovering itself, and each moment brought it reinforcements, while its fury was augmented by the trick we had played it, and the prospect of our escape.

We were under forty, all told; and some men were riding double.  Bezers’ eye glanced hastily over his array, and lit on us three.  He turned and gave some order to his lieutenant.  The fellow spurred his horse, a splendid grey, as powerful as his master’s, alongside of Croisette, threw his arm round the lad, and dragged him dexterously on to his own crupper.  I did not understand the action, but I saw Croisette settle himself behind Blaise Bure—­ for he it was—­and supposed no harm was intended.  The next moment we had surged forward, and were swaying to and fro in the midst of the crowd.

What ensued I cannot tell.  The outlook, so far as I was concerned, was limited to wildly plunging horses—­we were in the centre of the band and riders swaying in the saddle—­with a glimpse here and there of a fringe of white scowling faces and tossing arms.  Once, a lane opening, I saw the Vidame’s charger —­he was in the van—­stumble and fall among the crowd and heard a great shout go up.  But Bezers by a mighty effort lifted it to its legs again.  And once too, a minute later, those riding on my right, swerved outwards, and I saw something I never afterwards forgot.