"
And undismayed by the scowling brows, and the cross ostentatiously lifted
to heaven, he gazed after the procession as it moved on under its swaying
banner, now one and now another of the acolytes looking back and raising
his hands to invoke the bolt of Heaven on the blasphemer. As the
_cortege_ passed the huge watering-troughs, and the open gateway of the
inn, the knot of persons congregated there fell on their knees. In
answer the Churchmen raised their banner higher, and began to sing the
_Eripe me, Domine_! and to its strains, now vengeful, now despairing, now
rising on a wave of menace, they passed slowly into the distance, slowly
towards Angers and the Loire.
Suddenly Madame St. Lo twitched his sleeve. "Enough for me!" she cried
passionately. "I go no farther with you!"
"Ah?"
"No farther!" she repeated. She was pale, she shivered. "Many thanks,
my cousin, but we part company here. I do not go to Angers. I have seen
horrors enough. I will take my people, and go to my aunt by Tours and
the east road. For you, I foresee what will happen. You will perish
between the hammer and the anvil."
"Ah?"
"You play too fine a game," she continued, her face quivering. "Give
over the girl to her lover, and send away her people with her. And wash
your hands of her and hers.
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