Jean Oullier reflected a moment. His prejudice against all that came from la Logerie was so intense, his hatred against all that bore the name of Michel so deep, that he could not endure to accept a service from the young man. In fact, in spite of the latter's ingenuous frankness, the distrustful Vendéan suspected that such a show of good-will meant treachery. He knew, however, that Guérin was right, and that he alone in a crucial moment could give the Chouans confidence enough in themselves to let the enemy come openly up to them, and therefore that he alone could delay their march to Souday. On the other hand, he felt that Michel could explain to the Comte de Bonneville better than any peasant the danger that threatened him, and so he resigned himself, though sulkily, to be under an obligation to one of the Michel family.
"Ah, wolf-cub!" he muttered, "I can't help myself." Then aloud, "Very well, so be it. Go!" he said; "but have you the legs to do it?"
"Steel legs."
"Hum!" grunted Jean Oullier.
"If Mademoiselle Bertha were here she would certify to them."
"Mademoiselle Bertha!" exclaimed Jean Oullier, frowning.
"Yes; I fetched the doctor for old Tinguy, and I took only fifty minutes to go seven miles and a half there and back."
Jean Oullier shook his head like a man who is far from being satisfied.
"Do you look after your enemies," said Michel, "and rely on me. If it takes you ten minutes to get to Souday it will take me five, I'll answer for that."
And the young man shook from his clothes the mud and slime with which he was covered, and prepared to depart.