Pierre saw his young lady’s face turn as pale as any nun’s, as she glanced over this note.
“The carriage, Pierre! Have it to the door instantly.”
“With your leave. Mademoiselle, the soldier says no French carriages will be safe in the streets this morning.”
“Oh, mercy! A chair, then. Send for a chair this moment. The soldier will go for it—ask him as a favour. They will not dare to refuse one to a governor’s guard. Then come, and dress your master, and do not look so grave, Pierre, before him.”
Pierre went, and was met at the door by a servant with another note. It was—
“Do not come by the street, dearest Euphrosyne. The nuns will let you through their garden, into our garden alley, if you can only get your grandfather over the balcony. My two messengers will help you; but they are much wanted:—so make haste.
“A.E.”
“Make the soldiers sling an arm-chair from the balcony, Pierre; and send one of them round into the convent garden, to be ready to receive us there. The abbess will have the gate open to the Government-house alley. Then come, and dress your master; and leave it to me to tell him everything.”
“Likely enough,” muttered Pierre; “for I know nothing of what is in those notes myself.”
“And I do not understand what it is all about,” said Euphrosyne, as she returned to her grandfather.