"I knew what your answer would be," said he, fondly kissing her; "but my little Gabrielle—"
"Oh, fear me not, father," cried Gabrielle, hastily. "Anything to get out of this horrid place. I believe I have seemed too impatient of it to those around me, but that was because inaction is always so trying to me."
"My love, you may yet be exposed to it. I have known one of our brethren put into a chest, with very few air-holes, and lowered into the hold of a merchant-vessel, with considerable roughness, where he was left many hours before he could be released."
Gabrielle changed color. "Never mind," said she, in a low voice, and pressing her father's hand. "What man has done man may do, though I am but a woman who say it."
"That's my brave girl!" fondly kissing her. "Well, my friends, if we can but get to Bordeaux, we shall escape; that is provided for. It was this which kept me from you so long. And what a return has been mine! I got no answers from you to my letters; I heard the persecution here was raging with fury; I came to snatch you from it, and found my home deserted, the factory burnt, the workmen scattered, no tidings of you to be found. At length I got news of you from one of the men, who told me of your retreat, and that he, under cover of night, brought you bread. We planned how to remove you hence to-night, but it must be in detachments. At a place agreed on there will be a small cart that will convey the children and perhaps their mother."
"I prefer walking," interposed my mother. "Jacques is unable to do so."
"Impossible! I am sure you have not the strength for it," said we all.
"Never fear," said she, stoutly.
"No, no; it must not be," said I.
"And you, my son?"