“That is settled then, monsieur. And I and the children, we remain here?”
“If you think it best, my dear Zénobie. I have the most supreme confidence in your discretion,” said the little man, eagerly. “You will, without doubt, be in perfect security. It is I only who am called out by the peculiar nature of my avocations, who really run any risk. You will remain here with Mademoiselle Veuillot.”
“With Mademoiselle Veuillot. Exactly.” There was something not unlike a thunder-cloud in the extreme quietness of madame’s manner, but the little notary went on unheeding:
“The last letter that was forwarded from Château Ardron we did not answer, you will remember. It was your idea that it might have been supposed to have miscarried. Another would, do you not think so, require a different treatment?”
“Allez,” said madame, more sharply. “Will you then not stay and conduct the affair yourself?”
The threat had the effect of stopping all Monsieur Roulleau’s injunctions. He was restless and anxious to be gone. Thérèse, when she heard of it at their dinner, had no difficulty in discovering the motive, although husband and wife put it upon business at Tours, which required his presence. Nannon confirmed her idea.
“I shall not soon forget his face when I told him it was so near.” It meant the fever at this time in Charville.
“Will it come to us I wonder, Nannon?”
“Dame, who knows? It has its road and it will keep to it. One or two have died of fright, that I do know, for I heard M. Deshoulières say so.”
Nannon’s cheery old face had grown sad and haggard. She knew too well what was going on.