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Updated: June 4, 2025
The host went away and did as he was told. Then the officer ordered two men to place themselves under Chicot's window, while he himself, with the three others, mounted to his room. "You know the order," said the officer.
"Another!" cried Borromée, starting up. "Yes, it is there." And having tried two or three times, with an unsteady hand, he put his finger on the buff doublet of Borromée, just where the letter was. Borromée started, as though Chicot's finger had been a hot iron, and had touched his skin instead of his doublet. "Oh, oh!" said he, "there is but one thing wanting." "What is that?"
The weapon had disappeared under the board which served as a hiding place and the rabbit was stuffed into Chicot's loose shirt. After about a quarter of an hour Labouise asked: "Well, sister, shall we get one more?" "It will suit me," Maillochon answered. The boat started swiftly down the current. The mist, which was hiding both shores, was beginning to rise.
He advised her to accept Chicot's offer, but said she ought to ask for an annuity of fifty instead of thirty, as her farm was worth sixty thousand francs at the lowest calculation. "If you live for fifteen years longer," he said, "even then he will only have paid forty-five thousand francs for it."
All this time the blood was welling copiously from the wound, and the agony of death was depicted on the features of the wounded man. "I am dying, I am dying!" he murmured. "O Heaven! have pity on me." This last appeal to the divine mercy, made by a man who had most probably rarely thought of it until this moment of his direst need, touched Chicot's feeling.
Old Mother Magloire did not need to be told twice, and the next day but one, as she was going to town in any case, it being market-day, in her gig, driven by her man, she, without any demur, put her trap up in Chicot's stable, and went in search of her promised dinner.
But he had not reckoned on the shirt of mail which Chicot had carried away from the priory. The dagger broke upon it like glass, and for the second time Chicot owed his life to it. Before Borromée had time to recover from his astonishment, Chicot's right fist struck him a heavy blow in the face, and sent him bleeding and stunned against the wall.
A man can think while he gallops, and Chicot thought much. What kind of prince was he about to find in that strange Henri, whom some thought a fool, others a coward, and all a renegade without firmness. But Chicot's opinion was rather different to that of the rest of the world; and he was clever at divining what lay below the surface.
Old Mother Magloire did not need to be asked twice, and the next day but one, as she had to go to the town in any case, it being market day, she let her man drive her to Chicot's place, where the buggy was put in the barn while she went into the house to get her dinner.
Chicot accordingly followed the cortege, observing the precaution, however, of keeping in the shadow of the walls, and taking care that the noise made by the footsteps of the men and of the horses should render the sound of his own inaudible. Chicot's surprise was by no means slight when he saw the litter stop at the door of the "Brave Chevalier."
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