A great blow from a heavy club on the sword-arm of Monsieur de Crequy laid it helpless and immovable by his side.

Jacques always thought that that blow came from one of the spectators, who by this time had collected round the scene of the affray.
The next instant, his master--his little marquis--was down among the feet of the crowd, and though he was up again before he had received much damage--so active and light was my poor Clement--it was not before the old gardener had hobbled forwards, and, with many an old-fashioned oath and curse, proclaimed himself a partisan of the losing side--a follower of a ci-devant aristocrat.

It was quite enough.

He received one or two good blows, which were, in fact, aimed at his master; and then, almost before he was aware, he found his arms pinioned behind him with a woman's garter, which one of the viragos in the crowd had made no scruple of pulling off in public, as soon as she heard for what purpose it was wanted.

Poor Jacques was stunned and unhappy,--his master was out of sight, on before; and the old gardener scarce knew whither they were taking him.