The women and the prisoners were put in the carts.
Dismounted Uhlans took the place of the drivers and the little procession with an escort of about fifty cavalry turned from the road into the woods, von Boehlen and the rest, about five hundred in number, rode on down the road.
John was in the last cart with Julie, Suzanne and Picard, and his soul was full of bitter chagrin.

He had just been taking mental resolutions to protect, no matter what came, Philip Lannes' sister, and, within a half hour, both she and he were prisoners.

But when he saw the face of Antoine Picard he knew that one, at least, in the cart was suffering as much as he.

The gigantic peasant was the only one whose arms were bound, and perhaps it was as well.

His face expressed the most ferocious anger and hate, and now and then he pulled hard upon his bonds.