Martin was a younger, brisker, cleverer man than Blaise, and besides being a vassal of the young Lady, was a sort of agent to whom the Abbess instructed many of the matters of husbandry regarding the convent lands. He stood, like Blaise, bareheaded as he talked to little Lady, and heard her somewhat peremptorily demand why they had not brought the horses and men for her escort.
It was impossible that night, explained Martin. Time was needed to bring in the farm-horses, and summon the other peasants, without whom the roads were unsafe in these times of disorder. He and Blaise must go round and warn them to be ready. A man could not be ready in a wink of the eye, as Madame seemed to think, and the two peasants looked impenetrable in stolidity.
‘Laggards that you are!’ cried Eustacie, petulantly, clasping her hands; ‘and meantime all will be lost. They will be upon me!’
‘Not so, Madame. It is therefore that I came here,’ said Martin, deferentially, to the little fuming impatient creature; ‘Madame will be far safer close at hand while the pursuit and search are going on. But she must not stay here. This farm is the first place they will come to, while they will never suspect mine, and my good woman Lucette will be proud to keep watch for her. Madame knows that the place is full of shrubs and thickets, where one half of an army might spend a fine day in looking for the other.’
‘And at night you will get together the men and convoy me?’ asked Eustacie, eagerly.
‘All in good time, Madame. Now she must be off, ere the holy mothers be astir. I have brought an ass for her to ride.’
Eustacie had no choice but compliance. None of the Orchard family could go with her, as it was needful that they should stay at home and appear as unconcerned as possible; but they promised to meet her at the hour and place to be appointed, ad if possible to bring Veronique.
Eating a piece of rye-bread as she went, Eustacie, in her gray cloak, rode under Martin’s guardianship along the deep lanes, just budding with spring, in the chill dewiness before sunrise. She was silent, and just a little sullen, for she had found stout shrewd Martin less easy to talk over than the admiring Blaise, and her spirit was excessively chafed by the tardiness of her retainers. But the sun rose and cleared away all clouds of temper, the cocks crew, the sheep bleated, and fresh morning sounds met her ear, and seemed to cheer and fill her with hope; and in some compunction for her want of graciousness, she thanked Martin, and praised his ass with a pretty cordiality that would have fully compensated for her displeasure, even if the honest man had been sensible of it.
He halted under the lee of a barn, and gave a low whistle. At the sound, Lucette, a brown, sturdy young woman with a red handkerchief over her head, and another over her shoulders, came running round the corner of the barn, and whispered eagerly under her breath, ‘Ah! Madame, Madame, what an honour!’ kissing Eustacie’s hand with all her might as she spoke; ‘but, alas! I fear Madame cannot come into the house. The questing Brother Francois—plague upon him!—has taken it into his head to drop in to breakfast. I longed to give him the cold shoulder, but it might have brought suspicion down.’
‘Right, good woman,’ said Martin; ‘but what shall Madame do? It is broad way, and no longer safe to run the lanes!’