“Does no one inhabit the château? Are you not afraid of its being plundered?”
“Oh dear, no, monsieur; two men sleep every night in the out buildings, and one walks about all night with a big dog. Indeed, for the last six months this precaution has been unnecessary, for there are no strangers about now; things have dropped into their old way, thank God! They were terrible times three years ago.”
“If the men who sleep here,” said our hero, “find out, which they must, that we are here, it may come to the ears of Captain Gaudet, and that would bring your good mother into trouble.”
“No fear of that, monsieur. When they are told that madame has ordered the persons who are here not to be disturbed or spoken of, it’s enough. Not a word will be said. Besides, Captain Gaudet is detested here; my eldest sister made an unfortunate match when she married him. He is from St. Valery, and was captain of a small brigantine; but when the war broke out he joined with his brother-in-law, also of St. Valery, to fit out a privateer, and being fortunate they after a time purchased the Vengeance, and the Bon-Citoyen, and cruised in company. Since the war he has grown so ferocious and cruel, that the men about these parts, who shipped with him at first, have left him, and my brother, who owns a coasting and fishing lugger, will have nothing to do with him. My sister, who lives near Havre, and has two children, contrives somehow to manage him when not excited by drink, but when drunk he is terrible. My youngest sister you met this morning has gone to Havre to see her sister, and take her a present of fowls’ eggs and butter. Now, monsieur, I must go; in the evening I will return with food and all things you may require; till then keep the door locked. You can walk in the great walled garden, for no one can see into it, and it is in very nice order.”
The young man expressed his gratitude and thanks to Annette Moret for the kindness he received; but Bill, whom they found in the kitchen very quietly lighting a fire from materials he had found in a cellar, said—
“I hope, sir, you will be so good as to ax for a small bit of backee and a pipe.”
“Backee!” interrupted Annette, with a smile. “I understand sailors can’t live without tobacco;” and taking a key from her basket, she unlocked a cupboard, in which Bill, with an exclamation of joy, beheld a row of pipes; and taking down a jar, Annette showed him it was full of the weed he so dearly loved. This so transported him, that he was within an ace of rewarding Annette with an embrace, had not our hero’s look and the girl’s serious manner stopped him.
When Annette had retired, Bill was allowed to smoke a pipe in the court-yard, for, strange to say, Lieutenant Thornton never at any period of his life indulged in tobacco in any shape.
Leaving Bill, therefore, to his pipe and his meditations, he returned to the intendant’s sitting-room, and throwing himself into a comfortable arm-chair, fell into a profound sleep from fatigue, not having rested the two previous nights.