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Updated: June 17, 2025
And himself answered his own question: "She is in Paris, and she must be brought out of it at once, before the place becomes a shambles, as well it may once the passions that have been brewing all these months are let loose. Young Rougane's plan is good. At least, I cannot think of a better one." "But Rougane the elder will not hear of it." "You mean he will not do it on his own responsibility.
He went with his son to inform M. de Kercadiou of what had happened, and told him frankly of the thing his son suggested, but which he dared not do. M. de Kercadiou sought to move him by intercessions and even by the offer of bribes. But Rougane remained firm. "Monsieur," he said, "if it were discovered against me, as it inevitably would be, I should hang for it.
In Meudon he was known and esteemed of all the simple folk, and it was Rougane, the friendly mayor, who, informed on the 9th of August of the storm that was brewing for the morrow, and knowing of mademoiselle's absence in Paris, had warningly advised him to withdraw her from what in the next four-and-twenty hours might be a zone of danger for all persons of quality, particularly those suspected of connections with the Court party.
It but remains to escape, as soon as we can discover how the thing is to be accomplished." Madame told him of the hopes that she had centred upon Rougane. It lifted him out of his gloom. He was disposed to be optimistic. "You are wrong to have abandoned that hope," he assured her. "If this mayor is so well disposed, he certainly can do as his son promised.
"Section Bondy, Rue des Morts," he bade the driver. Madame sank into her seat again, in a state of agitation fully shared by mademoiselle. Rougane set himself to pacify and reassure them. The section would put the matter in order. They would most certainly be accorded a permit. What possible reason could there be for refusing them? A mere formality, after all!
Hence that hastily dispatched note, desiring his niece and imploring his friend to come at once to Meudon. The friendly mayor carried his complaisance a step farther, and dispatched the letter to Paris by the hands of his own son, an intelligent lad of nineteen. It was late in the afternoon of that perfect August day when young Rougane presented himself at the Hotel Plougastel.
"But there is, Andre. Did not Rougane tell you that there were others..." "He mentioned Mme. de Plougastel and her servant." "Then why...?" M. de Kercadiou broke off, looking his question. Very solemnly Andre-Louis shook his head. "That is impossible," he said. M. de Kercadiou's mouth fell open in astonishment. "Impossible!" he repeated. "But why?"
And then, as he was leaving, he turned again to Rougane to ask if M. de Kercadiou was still at Meudon. "You know him, monsieur?" "He is my godfather." "Your godfather! And you a representative! Why, then, you may be the very man he needs." And Rougane told him of his son's errand into Paris that afternoon and its result. No more was required.
"If you send that to Paris by young Rougane in the morning," said Andre-Louis, "Aline should be here by noon. Nothing, of course, could be done to-night without provoking suspicion. The hour is too late. And now, monsieur my godfather, you know exactly why I intrude in violation of your commands. If there is any other way in which I can serve you, you have but to name it whilst I am here."
And while this was happening in the Tuileries, the two women at the Hotel Plougastel still waited for the return of Rougane, though now with ever-lessening hope. And Rougane did not return. The affair did not appear so simple to the father as to the son. Rougane the elder was rightly afraid to lend himself to such a piece of deception.
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