Madame de Luzy seemed to grow calmer in proportion to the increasing nearness of the danger.
“Let us go up to the second floor,” she said; “we shall be able to see through the sunblinds what is going on outside.”
But scarcely had we opened the door when, on the landing, we beheld a half-dressed fugitive, his face blanched with terror, his teeth chattering and his knees knocking together. This apparition murmured in a strangled voice—
“Save me! Hide me! They are there.... They burst open my gate—overran my garden. They are coming....”
II
Madame de Luzy, recognizing Planchonnet, the old philosopher who occupied the neighbouring house, asked him in a whisper—“Has my cook caught sight of you? She is a Jacobin!”
“Nobody has set eyes on me.”
“God be praised, neighbour!”
She led him into her bedroom, whither I followed them. A consultation was necessary. Some hiding-place must be hit upon where she could keep Planchonnet concealed for several days, or at least for several hours, whatever time it might take to deceive and tire out the search party. It was agreed that I should keep the approaches under observation, and that when I gave the signal, the unfortunate man should make his escape by the little garden gate.