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"Yes; I heard him tell Madame Deroulede last night that he was lodging with a provincial named Brogard at the Sign of the Cruche Cassee. I'll go seek him, Petronelle; I am sure he will help me. The English are so resourceful and practical. He'll get us our passports, I know, and advise us as to the best way to proceed. Do you stay here and get all our things ready. I'll not be long."
And Juliette young, girlish, feminine and inconsequent had sighed for country and sunshine, had longed for a ramble in the woods, the music of the birds, the sight of the meadows sugared with marguerites. She had left the house early: accompanied by Petronelle, she had been rowed along the river as far as Suresnes.
For the journey through France, my name is a sufficient guarantee that you will be unmolested; and if you will allow it, my mother and Anne Mie will travel in your company. Then..." "I pray you stop, Citizen Deroulede," she suddenly interrupted excitedly. "You must forgive me, but I cannot allow thus to make any arrangements for me. Petronelle and I must do as best we can.
"It's nothing, Petronelle," said Juliette quietly; "only a few old letters I am burning. But I want to be alone for a few moments will you go down to the kitchen until I call you?" Accustomed to do as her young mistress commanded, Petronelle rose without a word. "I have finished putting away your few things, my jewel. There, there! why didn't you tell me to burn your papers for you?
How or why, she herself could not have told. She was very young, and still a postulant; she was allowed to live in retirement with Petronelle, her old nurse, who had remained faithful through all these years. Then the Archbishop was prosecuted and imprisoned. Juliette made frantic efforts to see him, but all in vain.
Petronelle interposed, 'Whisht whisht, my bairn; dinna anger them. For she saw that there was more disposition to harshness towards Eleanor than towards Jean, whose beauty seemed to command a sort of regard. Eleanor took the hint.
'Oh, for mercy's sake, to your prayers, dinna wrangle about your joes, bairns, cried Madame de Ste. Petronelle. 'The castle's no won yet! 'But is as good as won, said Eleanor. 'There are barely twelve fighting men in it, and sorry loons are the maist. How many are up yet, Jeanie? 'There's a fifth since the Duke yet to come up, answered Jean, 'eight altogether, counting the gallant Ringan.
However, he resigned her to her sister and Madame de Ste. Petronelle, while Barbe led the way, lamp in hand. It was just as well poor Jeanie remained unconscious or nearly so while she was conveyed up the narrow stairs to a round chamber, not worse in furnishing than that at Dunbar, though very unlike their tapestried rooms at Nanci.
There followed a consultation in the securest place that could be devised, namely, in the antechamber where Sir Patrick and Lady Drummond slept to guard their young princesses, in the palace at Tours, Jean, Eleanor, and Madame de Ste. Petronelle having a bedroom within.
The three women chatted together, waiting for the return of the master of the house. Juliette felt well and, in spite of herself, almost happy. She had lived so long in the miserable, little attic alone with Petronelle that she enjoyed the well-being of this refined home.
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