completely as to his coldness towards the sex. Landrillon had not, it was evident, invented anything. Her terrible jealousy was now transformed into virtuous contempt.
"He shall surrender. He must surrender!" she shouted. "If he will not belong to one of you, he shall be for all!"
"To the rescue,Landrillon!" she continued. For, in anticipation of an unequal struggle, in which the opposition might prove too strong for them, she had posted her accomplice in the thick-wooded copses hard by. "Come and give us a hand, Landrillon!"
It was about time: Guidon was on the point of escaping from his persecutors, leaving in their hands his vest and even a portion of his hose and breeches.
"Stop,Joseph!" jeered Landrillon, tripping him up.
Held down by the valet, who had taken him by the throat, Guidon defended himself as best he could, fought with his fists and feet, and even tried to bite.
"A piece of string!" demanded Landrillon. "The little wretch kicks like the devil! Let's fasten up his hands and feet."
"Yes, yes!"
For want of string, the harpies tore up
