‘And a farm,’ said his wife; ‘and olives, and mulberries—perhaps chestnuts.’
‘And no more living by my wits,’ continued Benoit, ‘which are wearing away from constant use, when the mill is out of work. No more mountebanking nor singing songs, nor being pitched out of windows for so doing, instead of being paid. Oh—you will go, Louise; we will all go.’
‘And in a patache,’ said Bathilde, ‘with Jacquot to draw us: six leagues a day at least! What shall be our first stage?’
‘There is plenty of time before you to settle that point,’ said Philippe, smiling at the eager desire of Bathilde to leave Paris. Then turning to Louise, he added, ‘You can have no scruples, now, mademoiselle, about this bequest, were it only for the sake of these good people. Think that it may not be so much to benefit yourself as to render them happy. You consent?’
‘I do,’ replied Louise, after pausing a few seconds. ‘I cannot look for happiness myself—at least, on earth—but through me they may attain it. I care not how soon we quit this heartless, terrible city—never to return.’
‘We will talk of that to-morrow,’ said Benoit. ‘I think enough has taken place for this day. Ventrebleu! what a whirl my head is in: the river may rock the boat like a cradle, and the mill click all night, before it sends me to sleep. You two women get to bed, and Monsieur Glazer and myself will make ourselves comfortable here. I would not recommend him to go along the quays so late, for the city is in a troubled state to-night, and the execution has drawn all the gallows-birds abroad.’
And as Louise and Bathilde retired, the two others drew to the fire, and lighted mighty pipes, whose capacious bowls indicated a lengthy sitting.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE JOURNEY—EXAMINATION OF THE MARCHIONESS
Hurried on by the orders of the exempt, and escorted by a body of archers, who kept at full gallop round the carriage, the postilions spurred and lashed their horses, bringing Desgrais and his prisoner to Dinant sooner even than they expected. But, beyond the advantage of losing as little time as possible upon the road, there was no absolute necessity for this speed. Theria had not received the letter, as we have seen; and if he had, he could have rendered but little assistance to the Marchioness. Still Desgrais knew his prisoner; and uncertain as to what trouble she might cause him by her wonderful art and powers of inventing stratagems, he determined not to relax his vigilance until Marie was safe and secure within the walls of the Conciergerie.
No great deal occurred upon the road worthy of chronicling. The Marchioness threw herself in the corner of the carriage, and covering her face with a veil, remained so throughout the journey. From the attempt she had made at self-destruction, Desgrais kept his eye upon her; and upon their arrival at Dinant he ordered all the knives to be removed from the supper table, leaving her under the guard of Antoine Barbier, the archer who had watched her at Liége, whilst he went to arrange with a courier to start directly for Rocroy, and inform the magistrates of that place that the Marchioness would be there on the morrow; in order that they might interrogate her, unexpectedly, before she had sufficient time to plan her answers.