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This light tells me that two or three hundred retired officers will come to open the gates of the city for us as soon as we make our appearance." "And after that! If you take Montaignac, what will you do then? Do you suppose that the English will give you back your Emperor? Is not Napoleon II. the prisoner of the Austrians?
They saw the precipice toward which these misguided creatures were rushing, and they prayed God for an inspiration to check them. In fifty minutes the distance separating the Croix d'Arcy from Montaignac is traversed. Soon they see the gate of the citadel, which was to have been opened for them by their friends within the walls. It is eleven o'clock, and yet this gate stands open.
When the butler told her that the judges and the police agents had returned to Montaignac, she had great difficulty in concealing her joy. "There is no longer anything to fear," she said to Aunt Medea. She had, indeed, escaped the justice of man. There remained the justice of God. A few weeks before, this thought of "the justice of God" might, perhaps, have brought a smile to the lips of Mme.
"I am not such a fool! Let them have a night to calm themselves. I will not appear until to-morrow." But where should he pass the night? He was in evening dress and bareheaded; he began to feel cold. The house belonging to the duke in Montaignac would afford him a refuge. "I shall find a bed, some servants, a fire, and a change of clothing there and to-morrow, a horse to return."
Lacheneur struggled to free himself from his friend's grasp. "Everything has been arranged," he replied, "and they are expecting us at Montaignac. You would be as sure of this as I am myself, if you had seen the light gleaming on the windows of the citadel. And look, you can see it yet.
So it was with the bitterest resentment that, on the morning following her arrival in Montaignac, she recounted what she styled her "humiliations" to her father, i.e., the inconceivable arrogance of that Lacheneur girl, and the frightful brutality of which the peasants had been guilty.
This was so rapid, so extraordinarily rapid, as to astonish Abbe Midon, who had taken the place of the physician from Montaignac. "I never would have believed that Maurice could have been thus consoled," said Mme. d'Escorval, delighted to see her son's wonderful improvement in health and spirits. But the baron made no response.
"You must go to Montaignac," said he, "but it would be folly to disguise yourself. You would certainly be recognized, and the saying: 'He who conceals himself is guilty, will assuredly be applied to you. You must go openly, with head erect, and you must even exaggerate the assurance of innocence. Go straight to the Duc de Sairmeuse and the Marquis de Courtornieu.
Day was breaking; he declared that he would assume some disguise and go to Montaignac at once. On hearing these words, Mme. d'Escorval turned and hid her face in the sofa-cushions to stifle her sobs. She was trembling for her husband's life, and now her son must precipitate himself into danger. Perhaps before the sun sank to rest, she would have neither husband nor son.
Not until they reached the gates of Montaignac did the old soldier forsake his protegees, and then, not without bidding them a respectful farewell, in the name of his companions as well as himself; not without telling them, if they had need of him, to call upon Bavois, corporal of grenadiers, company first, stationed at the citadel.
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