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The padres had already been warned to send all their valuables to Santa Inés, and the women and children were to proceed thither on the first warning of an expected attack. But Bouchard made no attack. He merely wanted to exchange "prisoners."
Walking slowly with lowered head as she left the arbor, she almost ran into Bouchard, who apologized with the single word "Pardon!" as he lifted his cap in overdone courtesy, which his stolid brevity made the more conspicuous. "Miss Galland, you seem lost in abstraction," he said in sudden loquacity. "I am almost on the point of accusing you of being a poet." "Accusing!" she replied.
Noting with satisfaction the color on Brother Jacques's cheeks, the vicomte turned to Captain Bouchard. "I have determined to take a cabin to Quebec, Monsieur. I have some land near Montreal which I wish to investigate." "You, Monsieur?" said the sailor. "The only cabin-room left is next to mine, and expensive." "I will pay you in advance. I must go to Quebec. I can not wait."
"The 128th Regiment has been ordered to South La Tir, but no order yet given for the 132d, whose place it takes," Turcas went on. "Let it remain for the present!" Westerling replied. After they had withdrawn, the look that passed between Turcas and Bouchard was a pointed question. The 132d to remain at South La Tir!
In the morning, I bring a catheter with me, and when Bouchard's wounds are dressed, I apply it, for unfortunately, he can no longer perform certain functions independently. Bouchard has crossed his hands behind the nape of his neck, and watches the process with a certain interest. I ask: "Did I hurt you? Is it very unpleasant?"
Bouchard, hawk-eyed, stern, was standing by the street door. His mediæval spirit revolted at the thought of any kind of a mob. For such demonstrations he had a single simple prescription cold lead. "We cannot strike the overwhelming spirit which we would forge into the nation's defence," said Turcas.
"He has found out the cleverest hand in France, the very fellow who helped Bouchard in all his five-franc pieces. He has promised to bring him to-night." "Ay, I remember," returned Gawtrey, "he told me this morning, he is a famous decoy!" "I think so, indeed!" quoth a coiner; "for he caught you, the best head to our hands that ever les industriels were blessed with sacre fichtre!"
"He has found out the cleverest hand in France, the very fellow who helped Bouchard in all his five-franc pieces. He has promised to bring him to-night." "Ay, I remember," returned Gawtrey, "he told me this morning, he is a famous decoy!" "I think so, indeed!" quoth a coiner; "for he caught you, the best head to our hands that ever les industriels were blessed with sacre fichtre!"
When Bouchard, the chief of intelligence, who fought the battle of wits and spies against Lanstron, came, two hours before Westerling was due, the last of the staff except Westerling and his personal aide had arrived Bouchard, with his iron-gray hair, bushy eyebrows, strong, aquiline nose, and hawk-like eyes, his mouth hidden by a bristly mustache, was lean and saturnine, and he was loyal.
"Poor Bouchard! You can see for yourself," and he handed the note to Bellini. "I should have realized earlier that it was a case for the doctor and not for reprimand. Mad! Poor Bouchard! He hadn't the ability or the resiliency of mind for his task, as I hope you have, colonel." "I hope so, sir," replied Bellini. "I've no doubt you have," said Westerling. "You are my choice!"
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