"Oh, Marguerite!"
"Yes, but she is. Imagine being safe in Bâle, and then coming back here, all across France, just because she could not die anywhere but at the Château de Montenay in Rancy-les-Bois."
"She has come back?"
"Should I be here otherwise?" demanded Marguerite pathetically. "And the journey!—What I endured!—for I saw guillotines round every corner, and suspicious patriots on every doorstep. It is a miracle that we are here; and now that we have come, it is all very well for Madame my aunt, who has come here to die, and requires no food to accomplish that end; but for me, I do not fancy starving, and we have nothing to eat in the house."
"Oh, my poor dear! What made you come?"
"Could I let her come alone? She is too old and too weak; but I ought to have locked the door and kept the key—only, old as she is, she can still make every one do as she wants."
"You are not alone?"
"Jean and Louise, her old servants, started with us; but Jean got himself arrested. Poor Jean, he could not pretend well enough."
"And Louise?"
"Oh, Louise is there, but she is nearly as old as Madame."