“We ought all to think of ending our days in a Christian manner,” said Madame Hochon.
“Ah! Jean-Jacques,” said Agathe, “what a day this has been!”
“Will you accept my carriage?” asked Rouget.
“No, brother,” answered Madame Bridau, “I thank you, and wish you health and comfort.”
Rouget let his sister and nephew kiss him, and then he went away without manifesting any feeling himself. Baruch, at a hint from his grandfather, had been to see the postmaster. At eleven o’clock that night, the two Parisians, ensconced in a wicker cabriolet drawn by one horse and ridden by a postilion, quitted Issoudun. Adolphine and Madame Hochon parted from them with tears in their eyes; they alone regretted Joseph and Agathe.
“They are gone!” said Francois Hochon, going, with the Rabouilleuse, into Max’s bedroom.
“Well done! the trick succeeded,” answered Max, who was now tired and feverish.
“But what did you say to old Mouilleron?” asked Francois.
“I told him that I had given my assassin some cause to waylay me; that he was a dangerous man and likely, if I followed up the affair, to kill me like a dog before he could be captured. Consequently, I begged Mouilleron and Prangin to make the most active search ostensibly, but really to let the assassin go in peace, unless they wished to see me a dead man.”
“I do hope, Max,” said Flore, “that you will be quiet at night for some time to come.”