“By carriage to Mortagne, where a boat is always to be obtained. It is a short journey, if the tide is favourable,” broke in Marie, who was practical before she was polite.
“Then,” said Loo, as quick as thought, “drive back with me now to Mortagne. I have left my horse in the town, my boat at the pier at Mortagne. It is an hour’s drive. In an hour and a half you will be on board ‘The Last Hope,’ at anchor in the river. There is accommodation on board for both you and Madame; for I, alas! Leave the ship to-night with Monsieur Colville, and thus vacate two cabins.”
Juliette reflected for a moment, but she did not consult, even by a glance, Marie; who, in truth, appeared to expect no such confidences, but awaited the decision with a grim and grudging servitude which was as deeply pressed in upon her soul as was the habit of command in the soul of a de Gemosac.
“Yes,” said Juliette, at length, “that will be best. It is, of course, important that my father should reach Bordeaux as soon as possible.”
“He will be there at midday to-morrow, if you will come with me now,” answered Loo, and his gay eyes said “Come!” as clearly as his lips, though Juliette could not, of course, be expected to read such signals.
The affair was soon settled, and Jean ordered to put the horse into the high, old-fashioned carriage still in use at the château. For Juliette de Gemosac seemed to be an illustration of the fact, known to many much-tried parents, that one is never too young to know one’s mind.
“There is a thunder-storm coming from the sea,” was Jean’s only comment.
There was some delay in starting; for Marie had to change her own clothes as well as pack her young mistress’s simple trunks. But the time did not hang heavily on the hands of the two waiting in the little drawing-room, and Marie turned an uneasy glance toward the open door more than once at the sound of their laughter.
Barebone was riding a horse hired in the village of Mortagne, and quitted the château first, on foot, saying that the carriage must necessarily travel quicker than he, as his horse was tired. The night was dark, and darkest to the west, where lightning danced in and out among heavy clouds over the sea.
As in all lands that have been torn hither and thither by long wars, the peasants of Guienne learnt, long ago, the wisdom of dwelling together in closely built villages, making a long journey to their fields or vineyards every day. In times past, Gemosac had been a walled town, dominated, as usual, by the almost impregnable castle.