And at last Sister Hyacinthe was able to install herself with Elise Rouquet and Sophie Couteau in a large _char-a-bancs_, in which Ferrand and Sisters Saint-Francois and Claire des Anges were already seated.

The drivers whipped up their spirited little horses, and the vehicles went off at a breakneck pace, amidst the shouts of those left behind, and the splashing of the mire.
In presence of that rushing torrent, Madame Vincent, with her dear little burden in her arms, hesitated to cross over.

Bursts of laughter rang out around her every now and then.

Oh! what a filthy mess! And at sight of all the mud, the women caught up their skirts before attempting to pass through it.

At last, when the courtyard had somewhat emptied, Madame Vincent herself ventured on her way, all terror lest the mire should make her fall in that black darkness.