The soldier did not disguise the extreme impatience that these delays occasioned in him. Hardly had they turned the corner of the street, when he said to Mother Bunch: “Come, my child, explain yourself. I am upon hot coals.”
“The house in which the daughters of Marshal Simon are confined is a convent, M. Dagobert.”
“A convent!” cried the soldier: “I might have suspected it.” Then he added: “Well, what then? I will fetch them from a convent as soon as from any other place. Once is not always.”
“But, M. Dagobert, they are confined against their will and against yours. They will not give them up.”
“They will not give them up? Zounds! we will see about that.” And he made a step towards the street.
“Father,” said Agricola, holding him back, “one moment’s patience; let us hear all.”
“I will hear nothing. What! the children are there—two steps from me—I know it—and I shall not have them, either by fair means or foul? Oh! that would indeed be curious. Let me go.”
“Listen to me, I beseech you, M. Dagobert,” said Mother Bunch, taking his hand: “there is another way to deliver these poor children. And that without violence—for violence, as Mdlle. de Cardoville told me, would ruin all.”
“If there is any other way—quick—let me know it!”
“Here is a ring of Mdlle. de Cardoville’s.”