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Updated: June 24, 2025
Coupiau got off his seat after making a faint resistance. The silent traveller, extracted from his hiding place by the two Chouans, found himself on his knees in a furze bush. "Who are you?" asked Marche-a-Terre in a threatening voice. The traveller kept silence until Pille-Miche put the question again and enforced it with the butt end of his gun.
Francine at once let go his arm, and waited in horrible suspense in the courtyard where Merle found her. Meantime Marche-a-Terre joined his comrade at the moment when the latter, after dragging his victim to the barn, was compelling her to get into the coach. Pille-Miche called to him to help in pulling out the vehicle. "What are you going to do with all that?" asked Marche-a-Terre.
Take care of yourselves; the war has begun. Adieu, friends." Then, turning to the prisoner, he asked, "What's the name of your general?" "The Gars." "Who? Marche-a-Terre?" "No, the Gars." "Where does the Gars come from?" To this question the prisoner, whose face was convulsed with suffering, made no reply; he took out his beads and began to say his prayers.
"That is true," said Marche-a-Terre, addressing Pille-Miche. The two Chouans waited a moment in much uncertainty, unable to decide this case of conscience. Galope-Chopine listened to the rustling of the wind as though he still had hope. Suddenly Pille-Miche took him by the arm into a corner of the hut.
"Keep to the left if you don't want to be shot." He stood quite still; then observing that Madame du Gua was making for the Papegaut tower, he followed her at a distance with diabolical caution. During this fatal encounter the Chouans had posted themselves on the manure towards which Marche-a-Terre had guided them.
"The Grande Garce gave me the woman, and all that belongs to her is mine." "The coach will put a sou or two in your pocket; but as for the woman, she'll scratch your eyes out like a cat." Pille-Miche burst into a roar of laughter. "Then I'll tie her up and take her home," he answered. "Very good; suppose we harness the horses," said Marche-a-Terre.
Barbette again took his hand, grasped it violently, and dragged him into the house. When Pille-Miche and Marche-a-Terre threw their victim on the bench one of his shoes, dropping off, fell on the floor beneath his neck and was afterward filled with blood. It was the first thing that met the widow's eye. "Take off your shoe," said the mother to her son. "Put your foot in that. Good.
"Let him alone!" said Marche-a-Terre, shoving Pille-Miche with his elbow; "he has vowed by Saint Anne of Auray, and he must keep his word." "Very good," said Pille-Miche, addressing Coupiau; "but mind you don't go down the mountain too fast; we shall overtake you, a good reason why; I want to see the cut of your traveller, and give him his passport."
"He'll kill her." "Not at once." "Then she'll kill herself, she will never submit; and if she dies I shall die too." "Then you love her too much, and she shall die," said Marche-a-Terre. "Pierre! if we are rich and happy we owe it all to her; but, whether or no, you promised me to save her." "Well, I'll try; but you must stay here, and don't move."
"I'll give you that money as my share in d'Orgemont's ransom," said Marche-a-Terre, smothering a groan, caused by such sacrifice. Pille-Miche uttered a sort of hoarse cry as he started to find the postilion, and his glee brought death to Merle, whom he met on his way.
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