Silvere, waxing ferocious, intoxicated by the onslaught, attacked a big devil of a gendarme named Rengade, with whom for a few moments he struggled.

At last, by a sudden jerk, he succeeded in wresting his carbine from him.
But the barrel struck Rengade a violent blow in the face, which put his right eye out.

Blood flowed, and, some of it splashing Silvere's hands, quickly brought him to his senses.

He looked at his hands, dropped the carbine, and ran out, in a state of frenzy, shaking his fingers.
"You are wounded!" cried Miette.
"No, no," he replied in a stifled voice, "I've just killed a gendarme." "Is he really dead ?" asked Miette.
"I don't know," replied Silvere, "his face was all covered with blood.
Come quickly." Then he hurried the girl away.

On reaching the market, he made her sit down on a stone bench, and told her to wait there for him.