Two circumstances, which it was impossible to foresee, disarranged Lacheneur’s plans.
Standing beside his burning house, Lacheneur counted the signal fires that blazed out in answer to his own.
Their number corresponded to his expectations; he uttered a cry of joy.
“All our friends keep their word!” he exclaimed. “They are ready; they are even now on their way to the rendezvous. Let us start at once, for we must be there first!”
They brought him his horse, and his foot was already in the stirrup, when two men sprang from the neighboring grove and darted toward him. One of them seized the horse by the bridle.
“Abbe Midon!” exclaimed Lacheneur, in profound astonishment; “Monsieur d’Escorval!”
And foreseeing, perhaps, what was to come, he added, in a tone of concentrated fury:
“What do you two men want with me?”
“We wish to prevent the accomplishment of an act of madness!” exclaimed M. d’Escorval. “Hatred has crazed you, Lacheneur!”
“You know nothing of my projects!”