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Updated: June 23, 2025
"If we ever get there!" sighed poor Petronelle; "we have but very little money, ma cherie, and no passports. Have you thought of asking M. Deroulede for them." "No, no," rejoined Juliette hastily; "I'll see to the passports somehow, Petronelle. Sir Percy Blakeney is English; he'll tell me what to do." "Do you know where he lives, my jewel?"
Jean and Eleanor alike disbelieved that Louis could have encouraged this audacious attempt, but they were dismayed to find that Madame de Ste. Petronelle thought it far from improbable, for she believed him capable of almost any underhand treachery.
The very next moment she heard Merlin's voice ordering one of his men to stand at attention on the landing, but by that time she was safe inside her room. She closed the door noiselessly. Petronelle, who had been busy all the afternoon packing up her young mistress' things, had fallen asleep in an arm-chair.
No one would harm you under this roof, but it would not be safe for you to cross the neighbouring streets to-night." "But I must go, monsieur. Indeed, indeed I must!" she said earnestly. "I am deeply grateful to you, but I could not leave Petronelle." "Who is Petronelle?" "My dear old nurse, monsieur. She has never left me. Think how anxious and miserable she must be, at my prolonged absence."
The old cripple, with one foot in the grave, whose whole feeble mind, whose pride, whose final flicker of hope was concentrated in his boy, must be told that the lad had been brought home dead. "Will you tell him, Petronelle?" she asked repeatedly, during the brief intervals when the violence of the old nurse's grief subsided somewhat.
Gold can do so many things, and my only merit seems to be the possession of plenty of that commodity. You told me yourself how you had provided for old Petronelle. Under the most solemn assurance that she would meet her young mistress here, I got her to leave Paris. She came out most bravely this morning in one of the market carts.
She tried to fan the flames as best she could, but some of the correspondence was on tough paper, and was slow in being consumed. Petronelle, tearful but obedient, prepared to leave the room. She was overawed by her mistress' air of aloofness, the pale face rendered ethereally beautiful by the sufferings she had gone through.
Would that I had clung closer to her and never been parted. But the next moment she was startled by a cry Jean had slid from her horse, fainting away in George Douglas's arms. Madame de Ste. Petronelle was at hand, and the Lady of Glenuskie quickly on the spot; and they carried her into the hall, where she revived, and soon was in floods of tears.
Madame de Ste. Petronelle was to go with them, and an escort of trusty Scots archers, and all would meet again in a fortnight's time. All sounded simple and easy, and Margaret repeated, 'It will be a troop quite large enough to defend you from all ecorcheurs; indeed, they dare not come near our Scottish archers, whom Messire, my husband, has told off for your escort.
Since this, Barbe had learnt from her young master that the injured lady was the sister of the Dauphiness, and a king's daughter, and that every care must be taken of her and her sister, for he was madly in love with her, and meant her to be his wife. Eleanor and Madame de Ste. Petronelle cried out at this with horror, in a stifled way, as Barbe whispered it.
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