"What do you want, old woman?" said Herval sharply. "Don't you know that you risk a great deal by coming out at this hour? My men are not lambs, nor wood pigeons, nor turtle doves."
"Oh, Heaven bless you, Sir, I know that," replied the old lady, "and in a great fright I am too: but after all I'm the least in a fright in the convent; and Sister Bridget--when she came to me with her teeth chattering in her head just after the men had come round and knocked at the door, and swore they would burn the place to the ground before morning--she talked so much about my courage, that I thought I had some, and agreed to come down; and then when she had got me out, she locked the wicket, and vowed I should not come in till I had been down to do the errand. So I came quietly on, and through the little gate, and got out of the way of the great gate, because I saw there were a number of fires there; and when I saw a light under the sacristy door, I said to myself, the officers will be in there, and they will be gentler and kinder----"
"Well, and what was your errand when you did come?" demanded Herval sharply.
"Why, Sir," replied the old woman, "we have a young lady amongst us--" Paul Virlay started suddenly on his feet--"and a sweet young lady she is too," continued the poor old nun, "as sweet a young lady and as pretty as ever I set my eyes on, and she told our good lady mother, the superior----"
"What is her name, woman?" cried Paul Virlay, advancing upon the poor sister who retreated before him, but who still, with woman's intuitive tact in such things, saw that she had got the advantage. "What is her name, woman? It is my child! Oh, Herval, it is my child!"
"So she said to my lady mother," continued the good nun, as soon as she could make her voice heard; "so she said to my lady mother, that she was sure that if her father was in the Count of Morseiul's camp, he would come up in a minute with a guard of men to protect the convent--especially if he knew that we had been kind and good to her."
"Where is she?--Take me to her," cried Paul Virlay. "Woman, take me to my child.--I will bring a guard,--I will protect you. Where is my poor Margette?"
"Are you her father, then, Sir?" demanded the old woman. "Is your name Monsieur Virlay?"
"Yes, yes, yes," cried he impetuously: "I am Paul Virlay, woman."
"Then, Sir," she replied, "if you will bring up a guard and undertake to protect the convent, you can have the young lady, only pray----"