"Ho-ho, my little lady!" cried Adrienne's captor in a breezy,
jocund tone, "you wouldn't run over a fellow, would you?" The
words were French, but the voice was that of Captain Farnsworth,
who laughed while he spoke. "You jump like a rabbit, my darling!
Why, what a lively little chick of a girl it is!"
Adrienne screamed and struggled recklessly.
"Now don't rouse up the town," coaxed the Captain. He was just
drunk enough to be quite a fool, yet sufficiently sober to imagine
himself the most proper person in the world. "I don't mean you any
harm, Mademoiselle; I'll just see you safe home, you know; 'scort
you to your residence; come on, now--that's a good girl."
Father Beret hurried to the spot, and when in the deepening gloom
he saw Adrienne flinging herself violently this way and that,
helplessly trying to escape from the clasp of a man, he did to
perfection what a priest is supposed to be the least fitted to do.
Indeed, considering his age and leaving his vocation out of the
reckoning, his performance was amazing. It is not certain that the
blow dealt upon Governor Hamilton's jaw by M. Roussillon was a
stiffer one than that sent straight from the priest's shoulder
right into the short ribs of Captain Farnsworth, who there-upon
released a mighty grunt and doubled himself up.
Adrienne recognized her assailant at the first and used his name
freely during the struggle.
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