The crowd about the cottage had turned to look at the four on horseback and, since some of them had fallen away from the cottage door, Melisande had a glimpse of one of the most horrible sights she had ever seen in her life.
Standing just inside the room, into which it was possible to step straight from the street, was a creature who looked more like a wild beast than a human being.
Melisande saw bare arms, mottled purple, hanging at her sides, saw the dirty skin, showing through dirtier rags, the hair which hung about the creature's face, the slobbering mouth from which came a hideous muttering sound. But it was the eyes which Melisande would never forget as long as she lived. They were bewildered, tormented eyes, wild, defiant and yet somehow appealing for help.
And in that brief second a boy in the crowd, close to the door of the cottage leaned forward. In his hand was a long branch with which he prodded the mad woman. She tried to grasp the branch, but as she nearly succeeded in doing so, the boy would pull it away. She lunged as far as the chain would allow; the ring about her waist must have caused her a good deal of pain; and as the boy again prodded her and she tried to catch the branch she cried out a second time in suppressed rage. It was clear that this had been going on for some time.
The crowd shrieked its merriment and the gentry looked on indifferently at the amusements of the poor. Only one person in that assembly experienced a passion as great as that of the tormented. Melisande, without a second's hesitation, without stopping to think of anything but the mad creature's pain, slipped from her horse, handed the reins to John Collings who happened to be nearest and was too astonished to do anything but take them, ran forward and snatched the branch from the boy's hand.
"Do not!" she cried. "It is wicked. So cruel!" In the stress of the moment she had spoken in French.
The boy, at first startled, had released his hold on the branch; he tried after that brief hesitation to retrieve it. He kicked out at Melisande, as he tried to reach for the branch which she held above her head; and as he did so, she brought it sharply down across his face.
A pair of hands seized her . . . two pair of hands. She was aware of angry distorted faces about her, of a sudden roar of fury. She heard the word: "Foreigner!" They were forcing her to the ground.
But Fermor had leaped from his horse, had thrown his reins to John Collings and was in the midst of the crowd.
"She be French!" someone was shouting.
"They French have tails. . . ."
"Now be a chance to see for ourselves. ..."
"Stand back, you swine, you oafs, you country fools . . . stand back!" That was Fermor, eyes blazing, his arms swinging out. Someone staggered and fell, and Fermor had Melisande in his grasp.
"Get to your horse ... at once!" he said.
She obeyed. None tried to stop her. Fermor was facing the crowd with that arrogant insolence which they knew so well and which they had respected and obeyed all their lives.
"How dare you!" Fermor was shouting. "How dare you molest a lady!"
He had backed away from them and in a second or so he had leaped into his saddle.
The crowd had moved forward in that brief time; their mood was angry. Fermor was gentry, but foreign gentry. These people had seen the blood of a felon in the streets that day; they had been disturbed while they were tormenting Anna Quale. They were protesting against interference. There was too much interference. Bodmin was trying to take from them what was theirs by right; should they be interrupted at their pleasures by foreigners . . . even if those foreigners were of the gentry! It was only the presence of known gentry—-John Collings and Caroline Trevenning—that prevented them from acting in unison against the arrogant strangers who had dared interfere; as it was, some were for pressing forward, others for holding back.
Someone caught at Fermor's leg and was kicked and sent sprawling for his pains.
"Stop this!" cried John Collings. "What the devil . . ."
"Tar and feather the foreigners!" cried a voice in the crowd. "Chain 'em up with the mad *un . . . since they do like her so much."
Meanwhile Fermor had gripped the bridle of Melisande's horse and was forcing a way through the crowd.
"Come on!" he urged. "We must get away . . . with all speed."
And as he with all his might forced the two horses against the surly people, they broke through and, once free of the pressure, the horses were trotting, then galloping across the market square, out and away.
After some minutes Melisande cried: "Stop! Stop! The others are not with us."
He laughed but did not draw rein.
"I said the others are not with us," she repeated.
He continued to ride on for a few minutes. Then he stopped. "Did they not follow us?" he asked. Then he laughed loudly. "Out of evil cometh good."
"What ... do you mean?"
They had left the town well behind, and he looked back towards it. "It was a damned ugly crowd," he said. "Their blood was up. They did not like us, Mademoiselle. They liked neither you nor me. Tasteless oafs . . . don't you think?"
"It was my fault."
"Ah, Melisande, you have a lot to answer for."
"What shall we do now?"
"There are several things we might do. First look for an inn and quench our thirsts. That was a thirsty job. Then look for the others. ... Or congratulate ourselves."
"Congratulate?"
"On at last finding ourselves alone."
"Is that then a matter for congratulation?"
"I think so. I was hoping you would too. I at least feel a little gratitude towards the crowd. Let's ride on. I should not like to be overtaken by them."
"But . . . John Collings and Caroline . . . they will be looking for us."
"Don't let's worry about them. They'll be all right. John will look after Caroline."
"But we've left them there . . . with those people."
"They were only annoyed with us, you know."
"But you must be anxious . . . about Caroline."
"She's all right. Those people won't hurt their own. They have a hatred for those they consider strangers. You're one and I'm one . . . I no less than you. We're strangers in a strange land. We ought to console one another." He took her hand and kissed it. "I beg of you, smile. Be gay. I like to see you gay. Come on. We've escaped. Let us be gay."
"I am sorry. I am afraid of what they might do to Caroline."
"Why? She's safe. She'll be glad we've got away. It would have been very awkward if we'd stayed . . . very difficult! And Caroline
does not like difficult situations. Let us find a tavern, shall we? Come on."
"No. We must go back."
"What! Back to those howling hooligans! By the way, you haven't said thank you. It is customary, you know, when people save your life."
"I do thank you."
"Are you truly grateful?"
"I am afraid I have caused much trouble."
"You're bound to cause trouble, Melisande. Merely by existing you would cause trouble. So a little more, such as we have had to-day, hardly makes any difference."