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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Leave me!" he muttered. "Leave me!" He made a feeble movement with his hand, as if it held a weapon; then his head sank lower. It was Count Hannibal. His thigh was broken, and there was a lance-head in his arm. The Countess looked at him, then beyond him, past him into the darkness. "Are there no more?" she whispered tremulously. "No more? Tignonville my " Badelon shook his head.
Half a mile away, two or three dots could be seen approaching across the plain. He turned again. "You know the road?" he said, curtly addressing the young man. "Perfectly. As well as Carlat." "Then lead the way, Monsieur, with Badelon. And spare neither whip nor spur. There will be need of both, if we would lie warm to-night."
The light fell brightly on the wall to which his face was turned; how could that be if Bigot's broad shoulders still blocked the loophole? Presently, to assure himself, he called the man by name. He got no answer. "Badelon!" he muttered. "Badelon!" Had he gone, too, the old and faithful? It seemed so, for again no answer came.
On which he would have done the same himself; but Badelon called over his shoulder the eternal "Forward, Monsieur, en avant!" and sullenly, hating the man and his master more deeply every hour, Tignonville was forced to push on, with thoughts of vengeance in his heart. Trot, trot! Trot, trot!
He came down the other side of the brook, stooping and running, and went to join her." "How did he cross the brook?" Madame St. Lo blushed. "Old Badelon was there, gathering simples," she said. "He scared him. And he crawled away." "Then he did not cross?" "No. I did not say he did!" "Nor speak to her?" "No. But if you think it will pass so next time you do not know much of women!"
There was an instant of confusion, disorder, panic; horses jostling one another, women screaming and clutching at men, men shaking them off and forcing their way to the van. Fortunately the enemy did not fall on at once, as Badelon expected, but after showing themselves in the mouth of the valley, at a distance of three hundred paces, hung for some reason irresolute.
Over the green shoulder of one of these, a dozen bright points caught and reflected the last evening light; while as he spoke a man rose to his feet on the hillside above, and began to make signs to persons below. A pennon, too, showed an instant over the shoulder, fluttered, and was gone. Badelon looked as they looked.
"Old dog!" he cried and he held his hand to the veteran, who brushed it reverently with his lips "we will go together then! Who touches my brother, touches Tavannes!" "Touches Tavannes!" Badelon cried, the glow of battle lighting his bloodshot eyes. He rose to his feet. "Touches Tavannes! You mind at Jarnac " "Ah! At Jarnac!" "When we charged their horse, was my boot a foot from yours, my lord?"
Yet no; as the Countess leaned from the window, first one dusty figure and then a second darted from a door below, and made for the nearest turning, out of the Place Ste.-Croix. Before they gained it, four men, of whom, Badelon, his grey locks flying, was first, dashed out in pursuit, and the street rang with cries of "Stop him! Seize him! Seize him!"
This gave Badelon time to array his seven swords in front; but real resistance was out of the question, as he knew. And to none seemed less in question than to Tignonville. When the truth, and what he had done, broke on the young man, he sat a moment motionless with horror. It was only when Badelon had twice summoned him with opprobrious words that he awoke to the relief of action.
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