Madame's heart grew sick as she heard, as she waited, as she judged him by the fast-failing light a horse's length before his men--with only Tignonville beside him.
She held her breath--would the shock never come?
If Badelon had not seized her rein and forced her forward, she would not have moved.

And then, even as she moved, they met! With yells and wild cries and a mare's savage scream, the two bands crashed together in a huddle of fallen or rearing horses, of flickering weapons, of thrusting men, of grapples hand-to-hand.

What happened, what was happening to any one, who it was fell, stabbed through and through by four, or who were those who still fought single combats, twisting round one another's horses, those on her right and on her left, she could not tell.

For Badelon dragged her on with whip and spur, and two horsemen--who obscured her view--galloped in front of her, and rode down bodily the only man who undertook to bar her passage.

She had a glimpse of that man's face, as his horse, struck in the act of turning, fell sideways on him; and she knew it, in its agony of terror, though she had seen it but once.