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Updated: July 28, 2025
"I know you," continued Marche-a-Terre, "for a Jack Grab-All who would rather give blows than receive them when there's nothing else to be done. We have not come here to grab dead men's shoes; we are devils against devils, and sorrow to those whose claws are too short. The Grande-Garce has sent us here to save the Gars. He is up there; lift your dog's nose and see that window above the tower."
"There's the Grande-Garce!" thought Marche-a-Terre, as he rose to his feet against the tower wall like a bear. "We are here," he said to her in a low voice. "Good," she replied, "there's a ladder in the garden of that house about six feet above the manure; find it, and the Gars is saved. Do you see that small window up there? It is in the dressing-room; you must get to it.
"If the Grande-Garce is to be believed there'll be a fine booty to-day. Will you go shares with me?" "Look here, Pille-Miche," said Marche-a-Terre stopping short on the flat of his stomach. The other Chouans, who were accompanying the two men, did the same, so wearied were they with the difficulties they had met with in climbing the precipice.
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