‘There! take this, and return to Paris. I shall watch you along the road, to see that you are not loitering to watch me. Be off!’
‘But the honour of a Garde Bourgeois——’ commenced Maître Picard, somewhat vaguely.
‘Ha!’ shouted Philippe, raising the halberd as though to strike. Maître Picard made no other attempt to remonstrate. He turned away, and was directly progressing towards Paris as fast as his little legs and rotund body would allow him.
As soon as Philippe saw he was beyond eye-shot, he gathered up the arms and then returned to Marie.
‘We have a fresh and powerful horse, madame,’ he said, ‘some good arms, and a clear way at present. We will abandon this tumbrel and use our new prize.’
The Marchioness acceded to everything; in fact, since they had started she had appeared completely passive, trusting entirely to the student. Philippe took the small bundle from the cart and slung it to the holster. He then placed Marie upon the croup of the horse, having turned back part of the sheepskin trappings to form a seat, and got up before her. The whole affair from Maître Picard’s first coming up did not occupy four minutes.
‘Now, grasp me tightly,’ he said. ‘Are you ready? then en route!’
He struck the horse as he spoke, and the animal sprang forward, apparently insensible of the double load he was carrying. Philippe’s object was at all hazard to press on as far as was possible towards Compiègne, knowing that at Offemont carriages and horses, with everything the Marchioness needed for her flight, were at her disposal; but the high-road between Paris and Senlis was one long straight line, with few byways branching off from it but those which went completely out of the way; and even along these the journey would have been hazardous, as the snow lay over the open country in one unbroken sheet, alike covering up the ground and the dykes to the same level.
Desgrais and his party had evidently pushed on with speed; for although Philippe was now riding at the rate of ten miles an hour, they saw no signs of them ahead. The church-clock of Le Bourget[20] struck two as they entered the village; the snow had ceased to fall, and the stars shone somewhat more brightly; but beyond this everything was wrapped in obscurity, except at the end of the village, where a faint light was gleaming from one of the houses. The place consisted of one long street, and it was necessary to pass along this. Philippe reined up the horse, and proceeded, at a slow noiseless walk, in the direction of the light.
‘The snow comes aptly enough,’ he said; ‘or the ring of this beast’s shoes upon the clear frozen ground would soon have betrayed us. We must use a little caution now. I expect they have halted at the post-house.’