"No, Sir," replied Riquet, "I do quite the contrary. I try to forget them all as fast as possible, being resolved to go at any rate, and, therefore, judging that the less I think about risks and consequences the better."
"By Heaven, thou art right," replied the Chevalier, "and thou shalt have a bottle of Burgundy, if there be one in the camp, to keep warm thy good philosophy. See, there is the grey of the morning coming in, and I may well go away satisfied with having found one man in the world who is not so great a scoundrel as I thought him."
The Chevalier returned to the hut in which he had established his quarters, and cast himself down for an hour's repose; but before the daylight had been long in the sky he was on foot again, and at the door of the farm-house which contained Clémence de Marly. He was immediately admitted; and, strange as it may seem, if the Count de Morseiul had witnessed that meeting, it would certainly have wrung his heart more than the loss of a great battle. The royalist commander advanced at once to his fair prisoner, and, putting his arms slightly round her, kissed her cheek without any apparent reluctance on her part; and her first exclamation was, "Oh, Louis, I am glad to see you safe! You know not how my heart is torn!"
"I dare say it is, my pretty Clémence," replied the Chevalier, in his usual light tone; "but you, who have been doing nothing else but tearing other people's hearts for the last five years, must take your turn now. You have placed me in a terrible predicament, however, thoughtless girl," he added. "You are obstinate as an Arragonese mule about this matter of religion, and will not be contented till you have got yourself roasted in this world as preparatory to----"
"But tell me, Louis--tell me about him!" demanded Clémence. "Is he safe? Has he escaped from this awful night?"
"I suppose you mean Morseiul, by he and him," said the Chevalier, "and if so, he is safe, as far as I know. He has escaped. That is to say, he has not been taken, thank God--though one time he was very near it; for, by the flash of the guns, I saw his face in the middle of our men:--but I dare say now, Clémence, that you would a thousand-fold rather have me killed than this heretic of yours?"
"Do not be unkind, Louis," replied Clémence--"I would of course rather have neither of you killed; but now that you have got me, tell me what is to be my fate?"
"Why, that question is difficult to answer," said the Chevalier; "Heaven knows, I did not want you, Madam. I was obliged to write you a formal summons to return, for mere decency's sake; but I certainly never expected you would obey it. You might have said, No, silly girl, without telling all the world that you had turned Huguenot--all for the love of a gallant knight."
"Nonsense, Louis! Do speak seriously," replied Clémence: "you very well know I was what you call a Huguenot long before."
"Not quite, Clémence! not quite!" cried the Chevalier: "you were what may be called Huguenoting. But this rash and imprudent determination of declaring your feelings, doubts, or whatever they may be, at the very moment when the sword of persecution is drawn, was, indeed, very silly, Clémence. What is to be done now is rendered doubly difficult, and I suppose I must of course connive at your escape. We must take means to have an intimation conveyed for some trading vessels to hover about the coast, to give you an opportunity of getting away till this fierce bigotry has gone by. It will not last long; and in a year or two, I doubt not, exiles will be permitted to return. The only difficulty will be to have the ships opportunely; but I think I can manage that."