“Don’t you see the Blues?” she cried sharply. “Come here, you little scamp, or I shall be after you. Do you want to be shot? Come, hide, quick!”
While these things took place rapidly a Blue jumped into the marshy courtyard.
“Beau-Pied!” exclaimed Mademoiselle de Verneuil.
Beau-Pied, hearing her voice, rushed into the cottage, and aimed at the count.
“Aristocrat!” he cried, “don’t stir, or I’ll demolish you in a wink, like the Bastille.”
“Monsieur Beau-Pied,” said Mademoiselle de Verneuil, in a persuasive voice, “you will be answerable to me for this prisoner. Do as you like with him now, but you must return him to me safe and sound at Fougeres.”
“Enough, madame!”
“Is the road to Fougeres clear?”
“Yes, it’s safe enough—unless the Chouans come to life.”
Mademoiselle de Verneuil picked up the count’s gun gaily, and smiled satirically as she said to her prisoner, “Adieu, monsieur le comte, au revoir!”