“Come, open your eyes!” exclaimed Monsieur Hochon. “They mean to rob you and abandon you.”
“Oh! I was sure of it!” cried the poor imbecile.
“See, here is a letter Maxence has written to my grandson Borniche,” said old Hochon. “Read it.”
“What infamy!” exclaimed Carpentier, as he listened to the letter, which Rouget read aloud, weeping.
“Is that plain enough, uncle?” demanded Philippe. “Hold that hussy by her interests and she’ll adore you as you deserve.”
“She loves Maxence too well; she will leave me,” cried the frightened old man.
“But, uncle, Maxence or I,—one or the other of us—won’t leave our footsteps in the dust of Issoudun three days hence.”
“Well then go, Monsieur Carpentier,” said Rouget; “if you promise me to bring her back, go! You are a good man; say to her in my name all you think you ought to say.”
“Captain Carpentier will whisper in her ear that I have sent to Paris for a woman whose youth and beauty are captivating; that will bring the jade back in a hurry!”
The captain departed, driving himself in the old caleche; Benjamin accompanied him on horseback, for Kouski was nowhere to be found. Though threatened by the officers with arrest and the loss of his situation, the Pole had gone to Vatan on a hired horse, to warn Max and Flore of the adversary’s move. After fulfilling his mission, Carpentier, who did not wish to drive back with Flore, was to change places with Benjamin, and take the latter’s horse.