"Get in," he said, addressing the priest, "and quick--take Mademoiselle
Lacheneur. Now, Maurice, in your turn!"
But already the duke's soldiers were masters of the field. Seeing a
group in the shadow, at a little distance, they rushed to the spot.
The heroic Chanlouineau seized his gun, and brandishing it like a club,
held the enemy at bay, giving Maurice time to spring into the carriage,
catch the reins and start the horse off at a gallop.
All the cowardice and all the heroism displayed on that terrible night
will never be really known.
Two minutes after the departure of Marie-Anne and of Maurice,
Chanlouineau was still battling with the foe.
A dozen or more soldiers were in front of him. Twenty shots had been
fired, but not a ball had struck him. His enemies always believed him
invulnerable.
"Surrender!" cried the soldiers, amazed by such valor; "surrender!"
"Never! never!"
He was truly formidable; he brought to the support of his marvellous
courage a superhuman strength and agility. No one dared come within
reach of those brawny arms that revolved with the power and velocity of
the sails of a wind-mill.
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