A fine country to live in was la belle France, where a godly, modest, discreet, and well-living widow could be spirited away by main force from her sister and her servants, on the King’s highway in broad daylight, and by soldiers wearing the King’s own uniform!  ’In the name of the Prince!’ said they.  Verily, I think it was in the name of the Prince of darkness.  They tore poor Meg from me, though we both fought and struggled as hard as we could, in hopes of some one coming to our rescue.  Luckily my gloves were off, and I think I gave a few tolerable scratches to somebody’s face, in spite of his abominable cache-nez.  If the servants had had a tenth part of the valour of our poor fellows who lie dead at Newburry and Alresford we could have brought her off; but these were but Frenchmen, and were overawed by those dragoons, or dragons, in their cuirasses.

When poor Meg was dragged out, I held her fast, and tumbled out with her; but even as we fell, she was rent from me, and I think I must have been half-stunned.  At any rate, I found myself flung back into our own carriage, and the door shut upon me, while the horses were turned round, and we were made to gallop back by the road we had come.

Our women, screaming and crying like mad things, helped me up from the bottom of the carriage.  I bade them hold their tongues and stop the horses.  The one they could not do, the other they would not.  So I was forced to open the door myself, and shout to the coachman to stop that instant.  He would not at first, but happily I saw a pistol, which one of the wretches had dropped in the scuffle, and I threatened him with it.  Then, when my voice could be heard, I ordered the two outriders to gallop after the coach in which my sister had been carried off, and see where she was taken, while we made as much speed as we could after them; but the cowardly rogues absolutely began to cry, and say that the leader of the party had turned the horses’ heads, and declared that he would shoot any one dead who attempted to follow.

Luckily I was in a close-fitting black cloth suit, being still in mourning for our blessed martyr, and intending to make my toilette at Rambouillet.  I bade one of the fellows who had dismounted to give me his cloak, and while they were still staring at me, I sprang into the saddle, arranged the cloak, and rode off in pursuit.  I knew I could keep my seat even on a man’s saddle, for cavaliers’ daughters had had to do strange things, and it was thus that I was obliged to come away from my dear Berenger’s side.  But then I rode between my father and Eustace.  Now, if I did not find out where my poor Margaret was gone, who was to deliver her?