The Chouans [142]
of that man again. Compared with him Corentin is a noble being. Do you hear me?"
She rose, hiding beneath a face that was horribly calm the madness of her soul and a thirst for vengeance. The slow and measured step with which she left the room conveyed the sense of an irrevocable resolution. Lost in thought, hugging her insults, too proud to show the slightest suffering, she went to the guard-room at the Porte Saint-Leonard and asked where the commandant lived. She had hardly left her house when Corentin entered it.
"Oh, Monsieur Corentin," cried Francine, "if you are interested in this young man, save him; Mademoiselle has gone to give him up because of this wretched letter."
Corentin took the letter carelessly and asked,--
"Which way did she go?"
"I don't know."
"Yes," he said, "I will save her from her own despair."
He disappeared, taking the letter with him. When he reached the street he said to Galope-Chopine's boy, whom he had stationed to watch the door, "Which way did a lady go who left the house just now?"
The boy went with him a little way and showed him the steep street which led to the Porte Saint-Leonard. "That way," he said.
At this moment four men entered Mademoiselle de Verneuil's house, unseen by either the boy or Corentin.
"Return to your watch," said the latter. "Play with the handles of the blinds and see what you can inside; look about you everywhere, even on the roof."
Corentin darted rapidly in the direction given him, and thought he recognized Mademoiselle de Verneuil through the fog; he did, in fact, overtake her just as she reached the guard-house.
"Where are you going?" he said; "you are pale--what has happened? Is it right for you to be out alone? Take my arm."
"Where is the commandant?" she asked.
Hardly had the words left her lips when she heard the movement of troops beyond the Porte Saint-Leonard and distinguished Hulot's gruff voice in the tumult.
"God's thunder!" he cried, "I never saw such fog as this for a reconnaissance! The Gars must have ordered the weather."
"What are you complaining of?" said Mademoiselle de Verneuil, grasping his arm. "The fog will cover vengeance as well as perfidy. Commandant," she added, in a low voice, "you must take measures at once so that the Gars may not escape us."
"Is he at your house?" he asked, in a tone which showed his amazement.
"Not yet," she replied; "but give me a safe man and I will send him to you when the marquis comes."
"That's a mistake," said Corentin; "a soldier will alarm him, but a boy, and I can find one, will not."
"Commandant," said Mademoiselle de Verneuil, "thanks to this fog which you are cursing, you can surround my house. Put soldiers everywhere. Place a guard in the church to command the esplanade on which the windows of my salon open. Post men on the Promenade; for though the windows of my bedroom are twenty feet above the ground, despair does sometimes give a man the power to jump even greater distances safely. Listen to what I say. I shall probably send this gentleman out of the door of my house; therefore see that only brave men are there to meet him; for," she added, with a sigh, "no one denies him courage; he will assuredly defend himself."
"Gudin!" called the commandant. "Listen, my lad," he continued in a low voice when the young man joined him, "this devil of a girl is betraying the Gars to us--I am sure I don't know why, but that's no matter. Take ten men and place yourself so as to hold the cul-de-sac in which the house stands; be careful that no one sees either you or your men."
"Yes, commandant, I know the ground."
"Very good," said Hulot. "I'll send Beau-Pied to let you know when to play your sabres. Try to meet the marquis yourself, and if you can manage to kill him, so that I sha'n't have to shoot him judicially, you shall be a lieutenant in a fortnight or my name's not Hulot."
Gudin departed with a dozen soldiers.
"Do you know what you have done?" said Corentin to Mademoiselle de Verneuil, in a low voice.
She made no answer, but looked
She rose, hiding beneath a face that was horribly calm the madness of her soul and a thirst for vengeance. The slow and measured step with which she left the room conveyed the sense of an irrevocable resolution. Lost in thought, hugging her insults, too proud to show the slightest suffering, she went to the guard-room at the Porte Saint-Leonard and asked where the commandant lived. She had hardly left her house when Corentin entered it.
"Oh, Monsieur Corentin," cried Francine, "if you are interested in this young man, save him; Mademoiselle has gone to give him up because of this wretched letter."
Corentin took the letter carelessly and asked,--
"Which way did she go?"
"I don't know."
"Yes," he said, "I will save her from her own despair."
He disappeared, taking the letter with him. When he reached the street he said to Galope-Chopine's boy, whom he had stationed to watch the door, "Which way did a lady go who left the house just now?"
The boy went with him a little way and showed him the steep street which led to the Porte Saint-Leonard. "That way," he said.
At this moment four men entered Mademoiselle de Verneuil's house, unseen by either the boy or Corentin.
"Return to your watch," said the latter. "Play with the handles of the blinds and see what you can inside; look about you everywhere, even on the roof."
Corentin darted rapidly in the direction given him, and thought he recognized Mademoiselle de Verneuil through the fog; he did, in fact, overtake her just as she reached the guard-house.
"Where are you going?" he said; "you are pale--what has happened? Is it right for you to be out alone? Take my arm."
"Where is the commandant?" she asked.
Hardly had the words left her lips when she heard the movement of troops beyond the Porte Saint-Leonard and distinguished Hulot's gruff voice in the tumult.
"God's thunder!" he cried, "I never saw such fog as this for a reconnaissance! The Gars must have ordered the weather."
"What are you complaining of?" said Mademoiselle de Verneuil, grasping his arm. "The fog will cover vengeance as well as perfidy. Commandant," she added, in a low voice, "you must take measures at once so that the Gars may not escape us."
"Is he at your house?" he asked, in a tone which showed his amazement.
"Not yet," she replied; "but give me a safe man and I will send him to you when the marquis comes."
"That's a mistake," said Corentin; "a soldier will alarm him, but a boy, and I can find one, will not."
"Commandant," said Mademoiselle de Verneuil, "thanks to this fog which you are cursing, you can surround my house. Put soldiers everywhere. Place a guard in the church to command the esplanade on which the windows of my salon open. Post men on the Promenade; for though the windows of my bedroom are twenty feet above the ground, despair does sometimes give a man the power to jump even greater distances safely. Listen to what I say. I shall probably send this gentleman out of the door of my house; therefore see that only brave men are there to meet him; for," she added, with a sigh, "no one denies him courage; he will assuredly defend himself."
"Gudin!" called the commandant. "Listen, my lad," he continued in a low voice when the young man joined him, "this devil of a girl is betraying the Gars to us--I am sure I don't know why, but that's no matter. Take ten men and place yourself so as to hold the cul-de-sac in which the house stands; be careful that no one sees either you or your men."
"Yes, commandant, I know the ground."
"Very good," said Hulot. "I'll send Beau-Pied to let you know when to play your sabres. Try to meet the marquis yourself, and if you can manage to kill him, so that I sha'n't have to shoot him judicially, you shall be a lieutenant in a fortnight or my name's not Hulot."
Gudin departed with a dozen soldiers.
"Do you know what you have done?" said Corentin to Mademoiselle de Verneuil, in a low voice.
She made no answer, but looked