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Updated: June 24, 2025
On it depended the safety of Mlle. de Varion, the rescue of her father, the expeditious return of my brave company to our Henri's side, and certain valuable interests of our Henri's cause. I will confess that it was for its use to mademoiselle, rather than for its use to our Henri, that I most valued, at that moment, the life which there was every chance of my speedily losing.
"And why comes Mlle. de Varion here?" And now Montignac spoke, fixing his eyes on La Chatre, and using a quiet but resolute tone: "She comes too late. La Tournoire will be taken without her aid." "Be silent, Montignac!" said La Chatre, assuming the authoritative for the sake of appearance. "It is true, mademoiselle; you are too late in fulfilling your part of the agreement."
The old man then saw to our horses, and Marianne brought us wine. "Before sunset," I said to mademoiselle, as I raised my glass, "you shall meet the Sieur de la Tournoire at his hiding-place." Mlle. de Varion turned pale, and, as if suddenly too weak to stand, sat down on a wooden bench before the inn door. Jeannotte ran to support her. "Before sunset!" she repeated, with a shudder.
What man of his age, however given to deep study and secret ambition, could have been insensible to her beauty, her grace, her gentleness? Such a youth as Montignac would pass a thousand women indifferently, and at last perceive in Mlle. de Varion at first glance the perfections that distinguished her from others of her sex.
"It was my duty, when I followed to protect her," the boy said. "Mlle. de Varion was mad, I think, to go alone at this hour." "Mademoiselle?" I echoed, in great mystification. "Alone? Whither?" "To Clochonne, to M. de la Chatre," was the reply. It took away from me for a moment the very power of speech. I stared at the boy in dumb amazement. "Clochonne! La Chatre! Mademoiselle!"
Moreover, for all I know, this woman may not be Mile, de Varion, although Montignac so named her to me. She may have assumed that character at his suggestion, in order to get your confidence and sympathy, not daring to pretend to be a Huguenot, lest some habitual act might betray the deception." "Enough, M. de Berquin," I said.
Yet, who knows but that poor De Noyard had believed Mlle. d'Arency true? Might he not, with the eyes of love, have seen in her as pure and spotless a creature as I had seen in Mile, de Varion? Do the eyes of love, then, deceive? Is the confidence of lovers never to be relied on? But I must have read her heart aright. Surely her heart had spoken to mine. Surely its voice was that of truth.
Yet I caused his arrest because he hid his old friend, that Polignart, who had turned heretic. Mon dieu, what can I do more? I punish not only heretics, but also those who shield heretics. Yet the Duke of Guise hints that I lack zeal!" "As to M. de Varion," said Montignac; "what is your intention regarding him?"
I took the order, scanned it, and handed him another pen. "Excellent!" said I. "And now again!" He made a momentary show of haughty, indignant refusal, but a movement of my sword quelled the brief revolt in him. "The bearer of this," I dictated, "M. de Varion, is to pass free in the province, and to cross the border where he will."
She looked up at the broken facade of the chateau, around at the trees that environed the walls and in some places pushed their branches through openings, then at some of my men, who had been mending their clothes or tinkering at their weapons. "I shall feel safe at Maury, monsieur," she said, quietly. Thus Mlle. de Varion became my guest in that wilderness fastness.
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