CHAPTER XI
FRANÇOIS MAKES A PLEDGE
It was half an hour before moonrise and the night was supremely still. The warm air of midsummer stirred not even a leaf on the trees. There was no sound but the footsteps of three persons walking through a mulberry grove at a short distance from the spot where the highroad from Nîmes turned off to St. Hippolyte. Mademoiselle and Babet, escorted by M. d’Aguesseau, were making their way slowly back to St. Cyr. They had been—at the peril of their lives—to one of the night meetings of the Church of the Desert and were returning; cautiously avoiding observation all the while. Babet led them, her erect form moving deliberately forward; she never made a misstep, never hesitated, but held to her course in grim silence. She did not approve of their guest’s attentions to mademoiselle. D’Aguesseau had Rosaline’s hand and was guiding her, helping her over rough places, feeling the way where neither of them could see. They talked together at intervals, in low voices, and Babet’s ears moved, though she would have sworn that she scorned to listen; but she was guarding her ewe-lamb, and in spite of her convictions that mademoiselle must marry a prince, she began to be afraid of this resolute, quiet man.
They walked as rapidly as they could in the darkness, and leaving the trees behind turned sharply to the right across an arid plain that presented many rough and broken places, and where Rosaline required d’Aguesseau’s helping hand and his cautious guidance. Then they followed the dry bed of a stream, walking over stones and sand, always avoiding the highroad, but making their way steadily toward St. Cyr.
“It seems a long distance,� Rosaline said at last with a sigh.
“Long and dangerous for you,� François answered gently; “I would that we could have persuaded you to remain at home, mademoiselle.�
“Surely you would not have robbed me of such a consolation?� she said reproachfully.
“Nay,� he replied, in a low voice, “you know that I would do anything to serve you, but this was a terrible risk. MM. de Bâville and Montrevel are both watchful; both suspect that these religious meetings are held in the neighborhood, and at any time the troops may descend upon that old quarry; and there would be no quarter.�
“Yet we must serve God, monsieur,� Rosaline said, “even as Daniel did—in peril of the lion’s den; and as the prophet of Israel was delivered, surely the remnant of this people will be also delivered. Truly, monsieur, I would rather cast in my lot with these peasants, enfants de Dieu, than live as I do. But my grandmother is too old and too feeble for the wild life of the Cévenols, and so I go on—a Papist in Nîmes, a Protestant at heart.�
“You would join these people, mademoiselle, yet you have argued against me when I have proposed to go to the Cévennes.�
“You are under a pledge to go to England,� she returned promptly; “you have suffered enough. The time will come quickly for all of us, I suppose. I do not believe that this deception can go on. If the soldiers had found us to-night, I wonder if any of us would have escaped!�