“He is sure of success,” thought Marie-Anne.
“My plan is simplicity itself,” replied Martial. “Sixty and forty are one hundred. It is necessary to procure one hundred feet of strong rope. It will make a very large bundle; but no matter. I will twist it around me, envelop myself in a large cloak, and accompany you to the citadel. You will send for Corporal Bavois; you will leave me alone with him in a quiet place; I will explain our wishes.”
M. de Sairmeuse shrugged his shoulders.
“And how will you procure a hundred feet of rope at this hour in Montaignac? Will you go about from shop to shop? You might as well trumpet your project at once.”
“I shall attempt nothing of the kind. What I cannot do the friends of the Escorval family will do.”
The duke was about to offer some new objection when his son interrupted him.
“Pray do not forget the danger that threatens us,” he said, earnestly, “nor the little time that is left us. I have committed a fault, leave me to repair it.”
And turning to Marie-Anne:
“You may consider the baron saved,” he pursued; “but it is necessary for me to confer with one of his friends. Return at once to the Hotel de France and tell the cure to meet me on the Place d’Armes, where I go to await him.”