She seemed to the noisy peasants, as she stood there before them, sad-looking and sorrowful, but so supremely beautiful, to be like some goddess who had come direct from heaven to give them warning and encouragement.

The hum of their voices soon dropped, and they stood as silent before her, as though no strong passion, no revenge and thirst for blood had induced them, but a moment before, all but to mutiny against the leaders who had led them so truly, and loved them so well.
"Friends, dear friends," she began in her sweet voice, low, but yet plainly audible to those whom she addressed; and then she paused a moment to think of the words she would use to them, and as she did so they cheered her loudly, and blessed her, and assured her, in their rough way, how delighted they were to have saved her and the Marquis from their enemies.
"Dear friends," she continued, "I have come to thank you for the readiness and kindness with which you have hurried to my protection--to tell you how grateful I and mine are for your affection, and at the same time to ask a favour from your hands." "God bless you, Mademoiselle.

We will do anything for Mademoiselle Agatha.

We all know that Mademoiselle is an angel.

We will do anything for her," said different voices in the crowd.