down into the court-yard. Imprecations broke forth anew and the
combat began. Nothing could be heard but a vigorous fusillade,
accompanied by the shouts of the besiegers and the besieged. These last
were so few in number that they dare not dispatch one of their little
company to Remoulins for aid. Besides, they were not sure that the band
now assailing them would not be followed by others that would waylay
their messenger; but they hoped that their shouts and the sound of the
firing would arouse the inhabitants of the sleeping town. The Marquis
fought with the desperation of a man who is defending his outraged
fireside, and Philip struggled with the energy of despair. He was
fighting for his father and for Antoinette. He shuddered when he thought
of the horrible fate that awaited the young girl if these brutes, more
formidable than any wild beasts, were victorious. Even the Abbe Peretty
had armed himself. The servants and the friends of the house conducted
themselves like heroes, but, unfortunately, Coursegol was far from
Chamondrin, and the defenders of the chateau sadly missed his valiant
arm.

The assailants were still crowding against the gate, uttering howls of
fury. They were poorly armed. Only a few had guns, the others brandished
hatchets and pickaxes, crying:

"Tear down the gate!"

But, when the firing began, they left this dangerous position and
retired perhaps twenty feet, where they hid behind the trees, firing at
random, sometimes trying to advance, but always driven back with loss.
Five or six of them were already stretched upon the grass, but the
defenders of the castle were unhurt. The gypsies had retreated to a
safe distance, where they stood impatiently awaiting the conclusion of
the struggle, ready to fall upon the vanquished as soon as they became
unable to defend themselves.

Meanwhile Antoinette, surrounded by four or five women, was upon her
knees in the drawing-room, praying fervently, her heart sick with
anguish and fear. How ardently she wished herself a man that she might
fight by Philip's side! The firing suddenly ceased. Philip entered the
room. His face was pale, but stained here and there by smoke and powder;
his head was bare; his clothing disordered. Grief and despair were
imprinted upon his countenance.

"We must fly!" he exclaimed.

And taking Antoinette by the hand he led her through the long corridor
opening into the park. The frightened women followed them. In the park
they