‘Provided I see the letter, and you can write it in ten minutes,’ replied Desgrais. ‘We must reach Dinant to supper, where also you will rest the night.’
‘Half that time will be sufficient,’ said Marie. ‘Give me the means, and for a few minutes leave me to myself.’
Desgrais produced his tablets, and tearing a few blank leaves from them gave them to the Marchioness, as well as a style he carried; then placing the sentinel again before the door, he withdrew.
As soon as he was gone Marie traced a few words upon the paper, and then spoke to the guard.
‘What is your name?’ she asked in a low, hurried tone.
‘Antoine Barbier,’ replied the man gruffly, ‘archer in his Majesty’s service.’
And he continued his march. In less than a minute she again addressed him.
‘See!’ she exclaimed, taking a massive jewelled ornament from her hair. ‘The sale of this will provide you with good cheer for many a long day, and I will give it to you if you will forward this letter for me to its address. There is nothing in this against your orders. See,’ she continued, adding the address. ‘“M. Camille Theria, à Liége;” he is an apothecary in the town. Will you do this for me?’
‘Give it to me,’ said the man. ‘I will find some one when I am relieved who will pay attention to it.’
‘Take the wages, then, at the same time,’ added Marie.