Volume I Part 11 (1/2)

”Not without my helping to defend him!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Master Hugonnet, running to take his stand beside the travellers, still carrying his basin and shaving brush.

”And I will not allow that girl to be insulted, without doing what I can to help her!” cried Ambroisine, following her father and placing herself in front of Miretta.

”That is right! good! good for _la baigneuse_!” cried all the women, who had been drawn to the scene by the noise of the quarrel. ”You are on the girl's side, and we too will defend her!”

”All these ne'er-do-wells are fit for nothing but to insult women!”

”Let us pick up stones and throw them at the villains!”

”No, no! by Notre-Dame!” cried Hugonnet. ”No stones, I entreat you! You will break my windows and my sign, and I shall have to pay for all the damage! We shall be able to settle this business without you!”

The young gentlemen were embarra.s.sed, for, although eager to fight and having little fear of their adversaries, they were afraid that in the scrimmage they might injure the pretty traveller and Ambroisine.

The latter, divining what held them back, took delight in defying all those fine cavaliers, who were in the habit of making love to her, and several of whom called out to her:

”Come away from there, _belle baigneuse_; that is no place for you!”

”You are in our way. Besides, you ought not to take sides against your customers!”

”I don't care a fig for customers! Let these travellers go their way, and I will agree to shave all of you.”

This proposition seemed to make an impression on several of the young men; but the Sire de Jarnonville, irritated by all this discussion, drew his sword and strode toward the horse's head. With a few pa.s.ses he soon sent the famous Roland flying through the air. Pa.s.sedix, disarmed, called loudly for another weapon.

The Black Chevalier thereupon turned his attention to the dogwood staff, but he had not so simple a task as with the Gascon's sword.

At that moment, a young page, who had stolen forward to unseat Miretta, was confronted by Master Hugonnet; and he, having no other weapons than his basin and shaving brush, instantly covered the page with a thick coating of lather, filling his nose and mouth and even his eyes with it; whereupon the a.s.sailant began to shriek at the top of his voice. All eyes were turned in that direction. At sight of that face completely covered with lather, a roar of laughter burst from all who were present, friends and foes, combatants and lookers-on; it was as if they were trying to see who could laugh the loudest.

This incident suspended the combat for a moment. But the Sire de Jarnonville, who alone had taken no part in the general merriment, immediately renewed his attack on the peasant's staff. Whether because Cedrille's arm was tired, or because the sight of that gleaming weapon, whirling through the air and sometimes striking sparks, dazzled his eyes, he began to defend himself less vigorously. At last, a blow dealt with more force than usual broke the staff.

The peasant was beaten; the Black Chevalier's weapon was already on the point of forcing him to dismount, when Ambroisine, who had left her post a moment before, suddenly reappeared, carrying in her arms a little boy of three or four years; and darting in front of Jarnonville, she held the child out to him, crying:

”Take care, seigneur, you will wound this child!”

Those words and the sight of the little boy produced a magical effect on the Black Chevalier. He paused and dropped his arm, which was raised to strike; the warlike ardor which enlivened his face gave way to an expression of sadness, almost of tenderness. He gazed for some seconds at the little fellow, who, not realizing that he was in the midst of a battle, was not in the least frightened, but smiled up at the chevalier, crying:

”I'd like to fight, too!”

Jarnonville stooped to kiss the child's forehead, and replaced his sword in its sheath. Then, turning to the young n.o.blemen, who were utterly amazed at the change that had taken place in him, he said to them:

”It's all over, messieurs; the treaty of peace is signed!”

”What! all over? How so, if we are not satisfied?”

”I tell you that it is all over! This peasant has been conquered, disarmed; what more do you want?”

”We want him to apologize.”

”We want most of all to kiss the pretty girl whom he has _en croupe_.”