"But where is she now,--Mademoiselle Mary?"
"Now, this minute?"
"Yes."
"On the little island of La Jonchère; and that's where I am going to take you. But how queer of you to ask me all this, Monsieur Michel!"
"Are you really going to take me to her?" cried Michel, beside himself with joy. "Then come along, come quick, my little Rosine."
"Good! and that old fool Courte-Joie, who said I couldn't manage you! What idiots men are!"
"Rosine, my dear, for heaven's sake don't lose time."
"I'm ready; but hadn't you better take me up behind? and then we can go faster."
"Of course we can," said Michel, whose heart, at the mere idea of seeing Mary, abjured all its jealous suspicions, and glowed with the thought that she whom he loved was really the one who had so effectually managed his release. "Come, come on!"
"Here I am! give me your hand," said Rosine, resting her wooden shoe on the young man's foot. Then, making her spring, "There! I'm all right," she said, settling herself. "Now then, turn to the right."