She was in a dream.

This man, riding at the head of the simple villagers, was part of her vision; and, at the moment, she did not rouse from the ecstasy of reverie where her new-born love had led her.
For Valmond the scene had a moving power.

He heard again her voice crying in the smithy: "He is dying! Oh, my love! my love!" He was now in the heart of a fantastical adventure.

Filled with its spirit, he would carry it bravely to the end, enjoying every step in it, comedy or tragedy.

Yet all day, since he had eaten the sacred bread, there had been ringing in his ears the words: "Holy bread, I take thee; If I die suddenly, Serve me as a sacrament." It came home to him, at the instant, what a toss-up it all was.