It was proposed, however, on a dark night, to get away to some point on the river, where a boat should be stationed—though that was a difficult matter, for the river was well patrolled and boats were scarce—and drift quietly down the stream, till a good distance below the city. Mr. Stevens said he had delayed the attempt on the faint hope of fetching me along. Money, he said, was needed, for Clark and all were very poor, and common necessaries were now at exorbitant prices in the country. Tyranny and robbery had made corn and clothing luxuries. All the old tricks of Bigot and his La Friponne, which, after the outbreak the night of my arrest at the Seigneur Duvarney’s, had been somewhat repressed, were in full swing again, and robbery in the name of providing for defense was the only habit.
I managed to convey to Mr. Stevens a good sum of money, and begged him to meet me every day upon the ramparts, until I also should see my way to making a dart for freedom. I advised him in many ways, for he was more bold than shrewd, and I made him promise that he would not tell Clark or the others that I was to make trial to go with them. I feared the accident of disclosure, and any new failure on my part to get away would, I knew, mean my instant death, consent of King or no consent.
One evening, a soldier entered my room, whom in the half-darkness I did not recognize, till a voice said, “There’s orders new! Not dungeon now, but this room Governor bespeaks for gentlemen from France.”
“And where am I to go, Gabord?”
“Where you will have fighting,” he answered.
“With whom?”
“Yourself, aho!” A queer smile crossed his lips, and was followed by a sort of sternness. There was something graver in his manner than I had ever seen. I could not guess his meaning. At last he added, pulling roughly at his mustache, “And when that’s done, if not well done, to answer to Gabord the soldier; for, God take my soul without bed-going, but I will call you to account! That Seigneur’s home is no place for you.”
“You speak in riddles,” said I. Then all at once the matter burst upon me. “The Governor quarters me at the Seigneur Duvarney’s?” I asked.
“No other,” answered he. “In three days to go.”
I understood him now. He had had a struggle, knowing of the relations between Alixe and myself, to avoid telling the Governor all. And now, if I involved her, used her to effect my escape from her father’s house! Even his peasant brain saw my difficulty, the danger to my honour—and hers. In spite of the joy I felt at being near her, seeing her, I shrank from the situation. If I escaped from the Seigneur Duvarney’s, it would throw suspicion upon him, upon Alixe, and that made me stand abashed. Inside the Seigneur Duvarney’s house I should now feel unhappy, bound to certain calls of honour concerning his daughter and himself. I stood long, thinking, Gabord watching me.