I must remain; I must die, and thus hide my shame.

I must, it shall be so!" Just then Chanlouineau appeared.
Had he divined the secret of her resistance?
Perhaps; but without uttering a word, he lifted her in his strong arms as if she had been a child and bore her to the carriage guarded by Abbe Midon.
"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.