"We shall soon be clear upon that. It will not be long before the eighth hour will sound," whereupon Fergan resumed his casque and his sword, which he had put away upon entering, and said to his son: "Arm yourself and let's go to the market-place. As to you, my young ones," said he, turning to the apprentices, "continue adjusting the pike-heads to the shafts."
"Fergan!" exclaimed Joan anxiously, "you foresee war?"
"Oh, Colombaik," said Martine, weeping and throwing herself upon the neck of her husband, "I die with fear, when I think of the dangers that you and your father are about to run!"
"Be comforted, dear wife, by ordering these preparations of resistance to continue, my father only adopts a measure of prudence," answered Colombaik. "The situation is not desperate."
"My dear Joan," the quarryman said sadly, "I have seen you bear up more bravely on the sands of Syria. Remember what perils you, your child and I escaped during our long journey in Palestine, and when we were serfs of Neroweg VI—"
"Fergan," Joan broke in, overcome with anguish, "the dangers of the past were terrible, and the future looks menacing."
"We were all so happy in this city!" muttered Martine. "Those wicked episcopals, so anxious to turn our joy into mourning, have, nevertheless, the same as the communiers, wives, mothers, sisters, daughters!"
"That is true," said Fergan bitterly; "but those men of the nobility and their families, driven by the pride of station and living in idleness, are furious at no longer being able to dispose of our hard labor. Oh! If they tire our patience and if they mean to reconquer their hateful rights, woe be unto the episcopals! Terrible reprisals await them!" And embracing Joan and Martine, the quarryman added: "Good-bye, wife; good-bye, my child."
"Good-bye, good mother; good-bye, Martine," Colombaik said in his turn, "I accompany my father to the market-place. Soon as we shall have definite information, I shall return to let you know. Remain at ease and without any apprehensions."
"Come, daughter," said Joan to Martine, after once more embracing her husband and her son, who forthwith went out, "let's resume our sad task. For a moment I had hoped we could drop it."