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Updated: June 10, 2025
There was a murmur of suppressed laughter. "You mean at Cana," replied the Abbé Picot, the natural enemy of every civil authority. But the mayor held his ground. "No, M. le curé, I know quite well what I am saying; when I say Ganache, I mean Ganache." After dinner they went among the peasants for a little while, and then the guests took their leave.
"I begin to understand; but I suppose you have heard that things have gone hard against M. de Ganache?" He wrung his hands, and with a word of encouragement to him I changed the subject, and asked about the other guest. The landlord, however, professed utter ignorance of him. "He came this morning, monsieur, and, as far as I know, goes to-morrow.
It was ever thus: De Ganache was ever first; and I answered, without letting her complete her speech: "M. de Ganache is no longer a prisoner; he was freed by Montluc this morning." "Freed! Are you sure?" "Sure as I ride here. I saw him leave Poitiers in safety." "It is almost incredible. And yet " "It is true, mademoiselle. M. de Ganache is known to me, and I had speech with him before he left.
A little silence, and her eyes refused to meet mine. Then she said faintly: "I I do not know." All depended on a single turn, but it was De Ganache himself who threw his cards away. Stepping up to mademoiselle he put his arm through hers, and with an air of command, almost proprietorship, he said: "Come, Diane, we waste time here, and we have far to go.
As they watched this healthy, noisy fête, the melancholy guests in the dining-room felt that they too would have liked to join the dance, to drink from the great casks, and eat a slice of bread-and-butter and a raw onion. "By Jove! they are enjoying themselves!" said the mayor, beating time to the music with his knife. "It makes one think of the wedding feast at Ganache."
His hat was pulled over his eyes; but there was no mistaking De Ganache, and I watched with breathless interest. As he came up the arquebusier began to whistle his eternal "Rappel d'Aunis" once more, and the figures near the wall closed in around the buttress. In five paces De Ganache had passed the sentry and was at the gate.
But I thought of De Ganache. She was his promised wife. I thought of what I had to offer, and this and that gave me strength, and so I held back. "Mademoiselle," I said with an effort, "this is our last evening, and my wardship ends to-morrow." "To-morrow?" "Yes; the Queen has sent an escort to meet you at Longpont." "She is most kind!"
And, hand to his sword, he faced Simon, who answered coldly: "It means, monsieur, that you are my prisoner. Your sword, in the King's name!" "I! Arrested! It is impossible! What foolery is this?" But the Vidame simply held out a paper. "You may read this if you doubt." Almost mechanically De Ganache took the paper and ran his eyes over it.
The mayor, who was beating time with his knife, cried: "By Jove, that is all right; it is like the wedding of Ganache." A suppressed giggle was heard, but Abbe Picot, the natural enemy of civil authority, cried: "You mean of Cana." The other did not accept the correction. "No, monsieur le cure, I know what I am talking about; when I say Ganache, I mean Ganache."
So the rubber between De Ganache and myself had begun, and although I had been the means of saving his life this morning I was determined to put it to the last issue rather than see myself defeated in this matter by him. Mademoiselle would at any rate find that if I were a gaoler I was one who looked well after his charge.
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