"How do you feel now?" she asked.
"Better; we are always stronger for a struggle."
"And where are you going?"
"To Nantes. After what your mother told us, I think Bertha may not have gone there; and I fear some disaster from the delay."
"Well, at any rate, take a boat; that will spare your legs the fatigue of half the distance."
"I will," replied Jean Oullier.
And he followed the widow to the place on the lakeside where the boats of the fishermen were drawn up on the sand.
[XLIII.]
SHOWS THAT A MAN WITH FIFTY THOUSAND FRANCS ABOUT HIM MAY BE MUCH EMBARRASSED.
As soon as Maître Courtin had crossed the bridge leading from the castle he began to run like a madman; terror lent him wings. He did not ask himself whither his steps led him; he fled to flee. If his strength had equalled his fear he would have put the world between himself and the threats of the Vendéan,--threats he continued to hear resounding in his ears like a funeral knell.