Denot, by his superior weight and strength, had succeeded in getting the Chevalier to the ground, but Arthur still kept his hold in his hair, and though Adolphe was on the top of his foe, he did not find it very easy to get up.

“Get up, I say,” said Santerre.  “You’ll gain nothing by wrestling with that fellow; he’s more than a match for you.  Well, Captain, what’s the matter?”

The room in which the party had passed the night looked out into the garden at the back of the house.  The front room communicated with this by folding-doors, which during the night had been closed.  These doors were now violently thrown open, and one of the officers, followed by about a dozen men, rushed into the room.

“The road is crowded with men,” said the officer; “thousands of these brigands are on us.  The chateau will be surrounded in five minutes.”

“H—­and the d—­,” said Santerre between his teeth.  “This comes of playing the fool here,” and he hurried out of the room in company with the officer.

“Hurrah!” said the Chevalier, jumping to his feet.  “I knew they’d be here soon—­I knew they’d be here soon,” and running to Agatha’s side he caught hold of her hand, and covered it with kisses.

Denot also arose.  He had also heard the officer say that the peasants were coming on them, and he felt that if he were taken, he could expect no mercy from those who had so lately been his friends.  He did not, however, attempt to fly, but he stood still on the spot where he got up, and after wiping his hot brow with his handkerchief, he said slowly and mournfully—­“Agatha Larochejaquelin, you now see to what your conduct has reduced me; and with my last breath I tell you that I owe my disgrace, my misery, and my death—­ay, and the loss of my eternal soul, to you, and to you only.  Ay, shudder and shake, thou lovely monster of cruelty.  Shake and grieve with remorse and fear.  You may well do so.  My living form shall trouble you no more, but dead and dying I will be with you till the last trump sounds on the fearful day of judgment.”

Agatha did not answer him.  She felt assured that he was mad, and she only pitied him.  She had now too reason to hope that she and her father, and their whole household, would be relieved from their horrible position, and she no longer felt anything like anger against the unfortunate wretch whom uncontrolled passions had absolutely maddened.  Arthur, in his anxiety to see what was going forward, was about to leave the room, but Agatha laid her hand upon his arm to detain him, merely looking towards Denot as she did so.

“And do you think,” said Denot, “that puny boy could really stop my way, if I chose to put out my right hand against him.  Boy, I despise and disregard you! would before I die that it might be allowed me to measure arms with any man, who would dare to say that he would advocate your cause!”

“Beware the switch, traitor—­beware the switch!” repeated the Chevalier.