Simultaneously, a loud, harsh command to halt rang out upon the evening air.
The Marquise clutched at her daughter's arm with one hand, whilst with the other she crossed herself, as though their assailant were some emissary of the powers of evil.
"Mother in Heaven, deliver us!" she gasped, turning suddenly devout.
"Mon Dieu!" cried Mademoiselle, who had recognised the voice that was now haranguing the men on the box--their driver and the ostler of the 'Eagle Inn.' "It is La Boulaye himself." "La Boulaye ?" echoed the Marquise.

Then, in a frenzy of terror: "There are the pistols there, Suzanne," she cried.

"You can shoot.

Kill him! Kill him!" The girl's lips came tightly together until her mouth seemed no more than a straight line.

Her cheeks grew white as death, but her eyes were brave and resolute.