“‘Let him cry:  Vive la Charte!’ roared out a man, with a ferocious face.

“‘I receive orders from nobody,’ Christian replied, in a very loud voice, as he glared at him with eyes which would have put a rhinoceros to flight.”

“Your husband is really a very brave man,” said Mademoiselle de Corandeuil, addressing Clemence.

“Brave as an old warrior.  This time he pushed his courage to the verge of imprudence; I do not know what the result might have been if the crowd had not been dispersed a second time by the approach of the lancers, who were returning through the boulevard.  I led Bergenheim into a cafe; fortunately, his arm was only sprained.”  Just at this moment Marillac’s story was interrupted by a sound of voices and hurried steps.  The door opened suddenly, and Aline burst into the room with her usual impetuosity.

“What has happened to you, Aline?” exclaimed Madame de Bergenheim, hurrying to her sister’s side.  The young girl’s riding-habit and hat were covered with splashes of mud.

“Oh, nothing,” replied the young girl, in a broken voice; “it was only Titania, who wanted to throw me into the river.  Do you know where Rousselet is?  They say it is necessary to bleed him; and he is the only one who knows how to do it.”

“Whom do you mean, child?  Is my husband wounded?” asked Clemence, turning pale.

“No, not Christian; it is a gentleman I do not know; only for him I should have been drowned.  Mon Dieu! can not Rousselet be found?”

Aline left the room in great agitation.  They all went over to the windows that opened out into the court, whence the sound of voices seemed to arise, and where they could hear the master’s voice thundering out his commands.  Several servants had gone to his assistance:  one of them held Titania by the bridle; she was covered with foam and mud, and was trembling, with distended nostrils, like a beast that knows it has just committed a wicked action.  A young man was seated upon a stone bench, wiping away blood which streamed from his forehead.  It was Monsieur de Gerfaut.

At this sight Clemence supported herself against the framework of the window, and Marillac hurriedly left the room.

Pere Rousselet, who had at last been found in the kitchen, advanced majestically, eating an enormous slice of bread and butter.

“Good heavens! have you arrived at last?” exclaimed Bergenheim.  “Here is a gentleman this crazy mare has thrown against a tree, and who has received a violent blow on the head.  Do you not think it would be the proper thing to bleed him?”

“A slight phlebotomy might be very advantageous in stopping the extravasation of blood in the frontal region,” replied the peasant, calling to his aid all the technical terms he had learned when he was a hospital nurse.

“Are you sure you can do this bleeding well?”

“I’ll take the liberty of saying to Monsieur le Baron that I phlebotomized Perdreau last week and Mascareau only a month ago, without any complaint from them.”