"We'll see about that."
The three young men set out in pursuit. She would have liked to go with them, but Montfaucon clung to her skirt, sobbing, his legs still hampered by his bonds.
"Mummy ... mummy ... don't go away.... I was so frightened!"
She no longer thought of anything but him, took him on her knees, and consoled him.
"You mustn't cry, Captain dear. It's all over. That nasty man won't come back any more. Have you thanked Saint-Quentin? And your comrades Castor and Pollux? Where would we have been without them, my darling?"
She kissed the three boys tenderly.
"Yes! Where would we have been? Ah, Saint-Quentin, the idea of the rifle.... What a find! You are a splendid fellow, old chap! Come and be kissed again! And tell me how you managed to get to us? I didn't miss the little heaps of pebbles that you sowed along the path from the inn. But why did you go round the marsh? Did you hope to get to the ruins of the château by going along the beach at the foot of the cliffs?"
"Yes, mummy," replied Saint-Quentin, very proud at being so complimented by her, and deeply moved by her kisses.
"And wasn't it impossible?"
"Yes. But I found a better way ... on the sand, a little boat, which we pushed into the sea."