"Tsch, tsch," smiled Père Mouet, "their throats will soon get hoarse, and then they will drink and go to sleep. To-morrow, when they awake, I will talk to them."
"Ah, mon père," cried Guillaume, "they will not wait till to-morrow. That is why Jean M'rie came running at once with the news. Already they cry, 'À Varenac! À Kérnak!' They will be here to-night and will do the same as they did at Baud and Villerais."
Père Mouet glanced across towards Madame de Quernais.
If indeed the Terror were here it would be wise not to delay.
Madame still stood erect, her hand clasping the back of the chair, her powdered head held high.
If she had been alone she would certainly have defied these canaille with her last breath.
But there were the children.
Her proud lips quivered a little as she looked at Cécile, who stood near, with Gabrielle's hand locked in her own.
Yes, there must be no defiance.
"Take Jean Marie to the kitchen, Guillaume," she said, speaking very slowly and decidedly. "Give him some supper; also"—she drew a ring from her finger—"this souvenir of his mistress, with her best thanks. Perhaps one day I shall have opportunity of thanking and rewarding him more befittingly."