"True for you, Rupert. Figures were never in my line, except it is such a neat figure as Maria has. Ah, Rupert! I always thought you a nice lad; but how you managed not to fall in love with her, though she was a year or so older than yourself, beats Pat Dillon entirely. Now the sooner the campaign is over, and the army goes into winter quarters, the better I shall be pleased."
It was a dark and squally evening in November, when La Belle Jeanne, one of the fastest luggers which carried on a contraband trade between England and France, ran up the river to Nantes. She had been chased for twelve hours by a British war ship, but had at last fairly outsailed her pursuers, and had run in without mishap. On her deck were two passengers; Maitre Antoine Perrot, a merchant, who had been over to England to open relations with a large house who dealt in silks and cloths; and his servant Jacques Bontemps, whose sturdy frame and powerful limbs had created the admiration of the crew of the Belle Jeanne.
An hour later the lugger was moored against the quay, her crew had scattered to their homes, and the two travellers were housed in a quiet cabaret near, where they had called for a private room.
Half an hour later Maitre Perrot left the house, inquired the way to the governor's residence, left a letter at the door, and then returned to the cabaret. At nine o'clock a cloaked stranger was shown into the room. When the door was closed he threw off his hat and cloak.
"My dear marquis, I am delighted to see you; but what means this wild freak of yours?"
"I will tell you frankly, de Brissac."
And the Marquis de Pignerolles confided to the Count de Brissac his plan for getting his daughter away to England.
"It is a matter for the Bastille of his most Christian Majesty, should he learn that I have aided you in carrying your daughter away; but I will risk it, marquis, for our old friendship's sake. You want a passport saying that Maitre Antoine Perrot, merchant of Nantes, with his servant, Jacques Bontemps. is on his way to Poitiers, to fetch his daughter, residing near that town, and that that damsel will return with him to Nantes?"
"That is it, de Brissac. What a pity that it is not with us as in England, where every man may travel where he lists without a soul asking him where he goes, or why."
"Ah! Well, I don't know," said the count, who had the usual aristocratic prejudice of a French noble of his time. "It may suit the islanders of whom you are so fond, marquis, but I doubt whether it would do here. We should have plotters and conspirators going all over the country, and stirring up the people."