But Sir Giles continued perfectly unmoved by the tempest raging around, and laughed to scorn these menaces, contenting himself with signing to Captain Bludder to be in readiness.

“A truce to this, gentlemen;” he at length thundered forth; “the King’s warrant must be respected.”

Again Madame Bonaventure besought his pity, but in vain.  She took hold of his arm, and feigned to kneel to him; but he shook her coldly off.

“You are a very charming woman, no doubt, Madame,” he said sarcastically; “and some men might find you irresistible; but I am not made of such yielding stuff, and you may spare yourself further trouble, for all your powers of persuasion will fail with me.  I renew my demand—­and for the last time.  Do not compel me to resort to extremities with you.  It would grieve me,” he added with a bitter smile, “to drag so pretty a woman through the public streets, like a common debtor, to the Compter.”

“Grace! grace!  Sir Giles,” cried Madame Bonaventure.  Then seeing him remain inflexible, she added, in an altered tone, “I will never submit with life to such an indignity—­never!”

“We’ll all protect you, Madame,” cried the assemblage with one voice—­“Let him lay hands upon you, and he shall see.”

Sir Giles glanced at his myrmidons.  They stepped quickly towards him in a body.  At the same time Jocelyn Mounchensey, whom no efforts of the friendly gentleman could now restrain, sprang forward, and, drawing his sword, was just in time to place himself before Madame Bonaventure, as she drew hastily back.

“Have no fear, Madame, you are safe with me,” the young man said, glancing fiercely at the knight and his troop.

The greatest confusion now reigned throughout the room.  Other swords were drawn, and several of the guests mounted upon the benches to overlook the scene.  Cyprien, and the rest of the drawers and tradesmen ranged themselves behind their mistress, prepared to resist any attempt on the part of the myrmidons to seize her.  The curtain at the head of the room was partly drawn aside, showing that the distinguished persons at the upper table were equally excited.

“Gentlemen,” Sir Giles said, still maintaining perfect calmness in the midst of the tumult, “a word with you ere it be too late.  I don’t address myself to you, Jocelyn Mounchensey, for you are undeserving of any friendly consideration—­but to all others I would counsel forbearance and non-resistance.  Deliver up that woman to me.”

“I will die upon the spot sooner than you shall be surrendered,” said Jocelyn, encouraging the hostess, who clung to his disengaged arm.

“Oh! merci! grand merci, mon beau gentilhomme!” she exclaimed.

“Am I to understand then, that you mean to impede me in the lawful execution of my purposes, gentlemen?” Sir Giles demanded.

“We mean to prevent an unlawful arrest,” several voices rejoined.