Some one presently touched Alaine on the shoulder. It was Jeanne. She drew her aside. “I shall make the effort to get water. Yonder I see Ricard Le Nez. If I can escape unhurt at first, I can make myself known to him and the others. They will not hurt me, once they see I am French.”
“Jeanne, Jeanne!” Alaine caught her firm, hard hand, “you must not go.”
“I shall go.”
Alaine stood for a moment gazing at her, then she rushed to the blockhouse and found Trynje. “Give me one of your petticoats!” she exclaimed. Trynje looked at her in surprise, but obediently slipped off her upper skirt, which Alaine hastily put on and ran back. “If I see that she is taken I shall go forth myself,” she said. “François will not let them torture me, and so——” She went to the nearest loophole and looked out. Jeanne had just crept from the enclosure and was stealthily moving toward the spring. If she could go and return in this gray of morning all would be well. Alaine watched her breathlessly. So far she was safe.
But presently beyond there, coming down the road from the woods on the other side, she saw a figure on horseback followed by several men on foot. She watched eagerly, and presently with a smothered cry she turned to the man standing by her side. “Lendert, Lendert, it is your mother, and she does not know!”
A groan escaped Lendert’s lips as he looked out upon the approaching rider.
“See, see,” Alaine whispered, hoarsely, “she comes perhaps to ask your forgiveness; she comes to seek you. Lendert, Lendert, I must save her. No, no, hold me not; I tell you it is I who must go. Do you not see that one of those out there is François Dupont? Another is Ricard. I shall not fall into the hands of enemies, for they will recognize that I am French and will think me here a prisoner. I must go. Lendert, if you love me, let me go!”
“I cannot. I will not see you killed before my very eyes. They will fire before they understand.”
“But thy mother, thy mother!”
“Whom I must try to save.”