The Chouans [97]
"Yes, where can you hide me? for the Chouans are close by--"
"There," replied Barbette, as much amazed at the beauty as by the strange apparel of a being she could hardly believe to be of her own sex,--"there, in the priest's hiding-place."
She took her to the head of the bed, and was putting her behind it, when they were both startled by the noise of a man springing into the courtyard. Barbette had scarcely time to drop the curtain of the bed and fold it about the girl before she was face to face with a fugitive Chouan.
"Where can I hide, old woman? I am the Comte de Bauvan," said the new- comer.
Mademoiselle de Verneuil quivered as she recognized the voice of the belated guest, whose words, still a secret to her, brought about the catastrophe of La Vivetiere.
"Alas! monseigneur, don't you see, I have no place? What I'd better do is to keep outside and watch that no one gets in. If the Blues come, I'll let you know. If I stay here, and they find me with you, they'll burn my house down."
Barbette left the hut, feeling herself incapable of settling the interests of two enemies who, in virtue of the double role her husband was playing, had an equal right to her hiding-place.
"I've only two shots left," said the count, in despair. "It will be very unlucky if those fellows turn back now and take a fancy to look under this bed."
He placed his gun gently against the headboard behind which Marie was standing among the folds of the green serge, and stooped to see if there was room for him under the bed. He would infallibly have seen her feet, but she, rendered desperate by her danger, seized his gun, jumped quickly into the room, and threatened him. The count broke into a peal of laughter when he caught sight of her, for, in order to hide herself, Marie had taken off her broad-brimmed Chouan hat, and her hair was escaping, in heavy curls, from the lace scarf which she had worn on leaving home.
"Don't laugh, monsieur le comte; you are my prisoner. If you make the least movement, you shall know what an offended woman is capable of doing."
As the count and Marie stood looking at each other with differing emotions, confused voices were heard without among the rocks, calling out, "Save the Gars! spread out, spread out, save the Gars!"
Barbette's voice, calling to her boy, was heard above the tumult with very different sensations by the two enemies, to whom Barbette was really speaking instead of to her son.
"Don't you see the Blues?" she cried sharply. "Come here, you little scamp, or I shall be after you. Do you want to be shot? Come, hide, quick!"
While these things took place rapidly a Blue jumped into the marshy courtyard.
"Beau-Pied!" exclaimed Mademoiselle de Verneuil.
Beau-Pied, hearing her voice, rushed into the cottage, and aimed at the count.
"Aristocrat!" he cried, "don't stir, or I'll demolish you in a wink, like the Bastille."
"Monsieur Beau-Pied," said Mademoiselle de Verneuil, in a persuasive voice, "you will be answerable to me for this prisoner. Do as you like with him now, but you must return him to me safe and sound at Fougeres."
"Enough, madame!"
"Is the road to Fougeres clear?"
"Yes, it's safe enough--unless the Chouans come to life."
Mademoiselle de Verneuil picked up the count's gun gaily, and smiled satirically as she said to her prisoner, "Adieu, monsieur le comte, au revoir!"
Then she darted down the path, having replaced the broad hat upon her head.
"I have learned too late," said the count, "not to joke about the virtue of a woman who has none."
"Aristocrat!" cried Beau-Pied, sternly, "if you don't want me to send you to your /ci-devant/ paradise, you will not say a word against that beautiful lady."
Mademoiselle de Verneuil returned to Fougeres by the paths which connect the rocks of Saint-Sulpice with the Nid-aux-Crocs. When she reached the latter height and had threaded the winding way cut in its rough granite, she stopped to admire the pretty valley of the Nancon, lately so turbulent and now so tranquil. Seen from that point,