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Updated: May 31, 2025
You'll have need of his help if Rateau gives us the slip." The first part of the road from Gentilly to Paris runs through the valley of the Biere, and is densely wooded on either side. It winds in and out for the most part, ribbon-like, through thick coppice of chestnut and birch.
But she contrived to say quite firmly: "I do, and I am not afraid." Merri waved a huge and very dirty hand with a careless gesture. "I know," he said with a harsh laugh. "They all say that, don't they, citizen Rateau?" "Until the time comes," assented that worthy dryly. "Until the time comes," reiterated the other.
Nothing could have been better. The quarry, for the moment, was safe, and if the sleuth-hounds could not get refreshment, they could at least get a rest. Tournefort and Chauvelin crept out of their hiding-places. They met in the middle of the road, at the spot where Rateau had stood a while ago.
I can get to horse within ten minutes." "To horse, then, as quickly as you can. Pay off your men and dismiss them all but Tournefort, who had best accompany us. Do not lose a single moment. I'll be ahead of you and may come up with Rateau before you overtake me. And if I were you, citizen Gourdon," he concluded, with ominous emphasis, "I would burn one or two candles to your compeer the devil.
He said no more, for at that moment the door of the cabaret was opened from within and Rateau stepped out into the street, to the accompaniment of loud laughter and clapping of hands which came from the customers of the "Bon Copain." This time he appeared neither in a hurry nor yet anxious. He did not pause in order to glance to right or left, but started to walk quite leisurely up the street.
The atmosphere of the place had become strangely weird and uncanny; even the tablecloth, dragged half across the table, looked somehow like a shroud. "What shall we do, Rateau?" he asked tremulously at last. "Get out of this infernal place," replied the other huskily. "I feel as if I were in my grave-clothes already." "Hold your tongue, you miserable coward!
Durtal, followed by his cat, went into the other room, but suddenly Rateau ceased wrestling and came and stood before Durtal. "Monsieur, do you know what has happened?" he blubbered. "Why, no." "My wife has left me." "Left you! but she must be over sixty." Rateau raised his eyes to heaven. "And she ran off with another man?"
Then, all at once, she was inside a house a room, and she felt that she was being lowered very gently to the ground. She was on her feet, but she could not see where she was. There was furniture; a carpet; a ceiling; the man Rateau with the sabots and the dirty coat, and the merry English voice, and a pair of deep-set blue eyes, thoughtful and lazy and infinitely kind.
"And lose the ci-devant Comtesse de Sucy and the man Bertin," retorted Chauvelin with sudden fierceness. "Bertin, who can be none other than that cursed Englishman, the " He checked himself, seeing Tournefort was gazing down on him, with awe and bewilderment expressed in his lean, hatchet face. "You are losing sight of Rateau, citizen," Chauvelin continued calmly. "What is he doing now?"
"But " he began hoarsely. "I said, the wench stays here!" broke in Merri peremptorily. "Ah ca!" he added, with a savage imprecation. "Do you command here, citizen Rateau, or do I?" The other at once became humble, even cringing. "You, of course, citizen," he rejoined in his hollow voice. "I would only remark " "Remark nothing," retorted the other curtly.
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