“Ah! Monsieur, Monsieur Maurice, Mademoiselle Lacheneur and the old corporal have just arrived; they wish to come up.”
In three bounds the abbe descended the narrow staircase.
“Unfortunate creatures!” he exclaimed, addressing the three imprudent travellers, “what has induced you to return here?”
Then turning to Maurice:
“Is it not enough that for you, and through you, your father has nearly died? Are you afraid he will not be recaptured, that you return here to set the enemies upon his track? Depart!”
The poor boy, quite overwhelmed, faltered his excuse. Uncertainty seemed to him worse than death; he had heard of M. Lacheneur’s execution; he had not reflected, he would go at once; he asked only to see his father and to embrace his mother.
The priest was inflexible.
“The slightest emotion might kill your father,” he declared; “and to tell your mother of your return, and of the dangers to which you have foolishly exposed yourself, would cause her untold tortures. Go at once. Cross the frontier again this very night.”
Jean Lacheneur, who had witnessed this scene, now approached.
“It is time for me to depart,” said he, “and I entreat you to care for my sister, the place for her is here, not upon the highways.”