“Very well,” said the latter, “I will be there in a moment.” The sacristan withdrew and the curé donned his stole and surplice. “Now, follow me, Messieurs,” and he led the way to the door opening into the church, before which hung a tapestry. “You will be concealed here,” he said, and raising the tapestry, he entered the church and stood before the altar.
CHAPTER XVI
M. D’ARGENSON’S COUP
My head was singing strangely as I stared out into the church, and a great trembling seized me, for I was faint from loss of sleep, of food, of blood—of everything, in a word, that makes life. I heard myself praying wildly to the Virgin, the building seemed to rock before my eyes—and then I felt a strong and kindly hand upon my shoulder.
“Be brave, M. le Moyne,” said d’Argenson’s voice. “Be strong. You have need of your strength now, if ever.”
The voice—the clasp of the hand—nerved and steadied me. I felt that with this man beside me I could vanquish fate itself.
Once more I looked out into the church. I saw the acolyte arrange the altar-cloth and light the candles. Then the priest raised his hand, and the wedding-party advanced from the vestibule. It consisted only of Nanette, her uncle, and the hideous Briquet. The men held the girl between them and were almost carrying her. Her face was white as death, and she turned her eyes appealingly from one to the other, but saw only ferocity in those two savage countenances. At last they were at the altar-rail, and she dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands. I knew that she was praying.
“M. le Curé,” said Ribaut, “in case the bride cannot answer, her legal guardian is permitted to answer for her, is he not?”
“Yes, M. Ribaut,” replied the curé in a low voice, “that is permitted.”
“Very well, Monsieur, proceed,” and the men dropped to their knees beside the girl.
I could see her form shaken with sobs.