“I can’t now,” I answered. “You must be brave. Listen: if I try to take you away now, it may be that I should be killed and you left defenseless. But this evening you can be safe, whatever befalls me.”
“Why, what should befall you?” she asked, with a swift movement that brought her closer to me.
I had to tell her the truth, or my plan for her salvation would not be carried out.
“To-night I fight the duke. Hush! hush! Yes, I must fight with the duke—yes, wounded arm, my darling, notwithstanding. We shall leave here about five and go down to the bay toward the Mount, and there on the sands we shall fight. And—listen now—you must follow us, about half an hour after we have gone.”
“But they will not let me go.”
“Go you must. Marie, here is a pistol. Take it; and if anyone stops you, use it. But I think none will; for the duke will be with me, and I do not think Bontet will interfere.”
“But my mother?”
“You are as strong as she.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll come. You’ll be on the sands; I’ll come!” The help she had found in me made her brave now.
“You will get there as we are fighting or soon after. Do not look for me or for the duke, but look for two gentlemen whom you do not know, they will be there—French officers—and to their honor you must trust.”