“I think, captain, I shall have to send to you: where do you stay in Paris?”
“Nowhere, monsieur; I leave Paris as soon as I can find an easy-going horse.”
“But General Bretaux tells me you are wounded.”
“Not dangerously.”
“Pardon me, captain, but is this prudent? is it just to yourself and your friends?”
“Yes, I owe it to those who perhaps think me dead.”
“You can write to them.”
“I grudge so great, so sacred a joy to a letter. No! after all I have suffered I claim to be the one to tell her I have kept my word: I promised to live, and I live.”
“HER? then I say no more, only tell me what road you take.”
“The road to Brittany.”