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What were they to do with those dear but weak friends who were still at the chateau? three loving and beloved women, and an infirm old man, more helpless even than the women! They could not be left at Durbelliere, for the chateau would doubtless, before long, be again taken by some marauding party of their enemies, and any death would be preferable to the fate which would there await them.
"Indeed no, Henri; the house was not dull even when you were in Paris, and Marie was at Clisson, and papa and I were alone together here; it was not my being dull made me ask whether Adolphe was to return." "But you wouldn't be sorry that he should come back, Agatha? You don't want to banish poor Adolphe from Durbelliere, I hope?"
De Lescure only remained three days at Durbelliere, and then started again for his own house at Clisson, and Henri accompanied him. They had both been occupied during these three days in making such accommodation as was in their power for the sick and wounded, who were brought back into the Bocage in considerable numbers from Saumur.
There has been no time for such thoughts; but his memory to me is that of a dear dear friend." From the time when Cathelineau first went to Durbelliere, after the battle of St. Florent, his mother had expressed the greatest dislike at his attempting to associate with those who were so much above himself in rank; with those who would, as she said, use him and scorn him.
"Yes, Mademoiselle," he continued," I know you will forgive, when coming from a dying man, words which would have been insane had they been spoken at any other time my life has been wholly different since that day when your brother led me, unwilling as I was, into your presence at Durbelliere.
By degrees the daylight faded away, and for the last time, they watched the sun sink down among the cherry trees of Durbelliere, and the Marquis, seated by the window, gazed into the West till not a streak of light was any longer visible; then he felt that the sun of this world had set for him for good and all.
De Lescure, therefore, determined to go at once to Durbelliere; and Adolphe Denot, who was with him, accompanied him. They found Henri in the midst of his preparations, weighing out gunpowder with the assistance of the priest and the two girls.
He was wretchedly thin and gaunt; indeed, his hollow, yellow cheeks, and cadaverous jaws, almost told a tale of utter starvation. Across his face he had an ugly cicatrice, not the relic of any honourable wound, but given him by the Chevalier's stick, when he struck him in the parlour at Durbelliere.
After parting with their companion, de Lescure and Henri were not long in reaching Durbelliere; and on the road thither they also learnt that Santerre, and upwards of a hundred blue horsemen, were prisoners in the chateau, or in the barns, out-houses, or stables belonging to it; and that the whole place was crowded with peasants, guarding their captives.
"Now, Peter, run to the stable for your life; my horse is there and M. de Lescure's bring them both. They are both saddled. Run my friend; a moment lost now will cost a hundred lives." It was Peter Berrier to whom he spoke, and in spite of his evil treatment at Durbelliere, Peter ran for the horses, as though he was running for the King's crown.
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