Old Pierre did not think Heaven quite so kind on the morrow, however, when he discovered that his limbs were so stiff that he was unable to get out of his bed. But this circumstance did not in the least affect his spirit or quench the enthusiasm with which he looked forward to the fight which he had now persuaded himself to regard as inevitable.
CHAPTER XXIX.
Michel Prevost met D'Estreville by appointment at a café. "There is no one I can talk to about certain matters so readily as yourself," the Baron had said, and Michel replied, laughing, "Oh, if you are going to sigh and mourn over this little Dupré I think I will leave you to lament alone!"
Nevertheless D'Estreville begged him to come, and he went.
The attitude of old Dupré had put Louise into a doubly awkward position. "What shall I do, Marie—help me!" Louise had entreated her sister. "Henri must be told that I am alive, that is certain; yet when he learns that my father deceived him he will be so angry with my father that I do not know what may happen."
"Bah!" said Marie, "he will be so happy to learn that you are alive, that he will forget everything else. Moreover, he is not so foolish that he would take my father seriously."
"But father takes himself so seriously; he is determined to quarrel. Moreover, when Henri learns that I am alive he must also learn that I have masqueraded as a man, among men, and that is what I dare not tell him. It is an impasse."
"As you have put it, it is an impasse. But why dare you not tell him?"
"I am ashamed. There was a tale told in Moscow of a young Russian woman who had taken part in every battle in the campaign, her name was Nadejda Doorova. The soldiers in my regiment said horrible things about her. It is not likely that Henri would think well of my performance. It is not every one who is like my father and yourself, who have his blood in your veins."