The two girls clung to each other, finding comfort in this new bond of sympathy.
"We will not be afraid," Cécile murmured in her cousin's ear. "We will ask le bon Dieu to guard them. See, it is getting dark—perhaps they will soon be back now. It is certain that the men of Varenac will listen to Morice and cry, 'Vive le roi,' and then others will take example and do the same, and Monsieur de la Rouerie will march at the head of his army into France to save the poor King and Queen, and put an end to the dreadful Revolution. Afterwards we shall all be happy."
It was the summing up of a child who knows nothing of the world, and even Gabrielle smiled at such a rose-coloured picture.
"That is a very charming dream," she replied, "and I would that we could see Michael and Morice riding over the heath to tell us that the first part is accomplished."
"Yes, and Jéhan. Poor Jéhan! I fear we forget him."
Gabrielle sighed.
"Poor Jéhan! Yes, and yet I think he will be quite happy if he can carry good news to this great hero of yours, the Marquis de la Rouerie."
"Ciel! It is true he is a hero. And so handsome. All the demoiselles of Brittany are in love with him; but Jéhan says his head is too full of the Royalist cause to think of women. Ah, Gabrielle, look! I believe it is a messenger."
As she spoke Cécile pushed open the casement, peering out into the gathering darkness.
Certainly it was some one who came in haste. Clattering steps in the courtyard and a panting cry told that.