Bonnier started up from his gloomy reverie. “Let us set out,” he said, “we must boldly confront the terrors from which we cannot escape. Let us set out.”
“Be it so!” shouted Roberjot and Jean Debry. “The republic will protect her faithful sons!”
“And may God protect us in His infinite mercy,” exclaimed Madame Roberjot, falling on her knees.
And Jean Debry’s wife knelt down by her side, drawing her little girls down with her.
“Let us pray, my children, for your father, for ourselves, and for our friends,” she said, folding the children’s hands.
While the women were praying, the men issued their last orders to the servants and to the postilions.
At length every thing was in readiness, and if they really wished to set out, it had to be done at once.
Roberjot and Jean Debry approached softly and with deep emotion their wives, who were kneeling and praying still, and raised them tenderly.
“Now be strong and courageous—be wives worthy of your husbands,” they whispered. “Dry your tears and come! The carriages are waiting for us. Come, come, France is waiting for us!”
“Or the grave!” muttered Bonnier, who accompanied the others to the courtyard where the carriages were standing.