Father Lustucru, animated by the nearness of his vengeance, did not remark what passed in the mind of his companion. Having thrown the sack rudely on the ground, the steward lifted his cudgel, and was about to strike when the small door of the garden opened.
"How unfortunate!" he muttered; "Faribole, hide yourself in the hedge; I will come back here presently."
The Steward lifted his Cudgel.
He approached the person who had entered, and halted, petrified with amazement, on beholding Mother Michel. He imagined at first that she had been brought back by some vague suspicion, by some presentiment; but he recovered himself, hearing her say:—
"I am obliged to postpone my walk, for I have seen Madame de la Grenouillère’s carriage coming; it turned out of its way on account of the repairs being made in the street. By reentering through the garden I was able to get here in advance. Come, Monsieur Lustucru, let us hasten to receive our good mistress."
"I am with you, madame," said the steward; then, making a speaking-trumpet of his hand, he cried to Faribole:—
Making a Speaking-trumpet of his Hand.
"Strike all alone! strike until the cat has ceased to move!" and he rejoined Mother Michel in the court, where the domestics were drawn up in a line like a well-drilled battalion.