A stout, elderly man, in civilian garb, with a very red face and an angry look, his wig awry, was lashed to a chair.

Between two ruffianly looking men, who held her firmly, stood a woman.
There were perhaps two dozen other men in the room, unkempt, savage, brutal, armed with all sorts of nondescript weapons from ancient pistols to fowling pieces, clubs and scythes.

They were all in a state of great excitement, shouting and gesturing madly.
The woman standing between the two soldiers was in the full light.

So soon as he caught sight of her Marteau recognized her.

It was Laure d'Aumenier.