.

THE AMBUSH.
The start they made at daybreak was gloomy and ill-omened, through one of those white mists which are blown from the Atlantic over the flat lands of Western Poitou.

The horses, looming gigantic through the fog, winced as the cold harness was girded on them.

The men hurried to and fro with saddles on their heads, and stumbled over other saddles, and swore savagely.

The women turned mutinous and would not rise; or, being dragged up by force, shrieked wild, unfitting words, as they were driven to the horses.