They crouched down and waited breathlessly. Then, after an agonised struggle, Marguerite coughed, and at once a dark figure bore down on them.
"Thank the Saints I have found you," said Madelon's voice.
Aline sprang up.
"Madelon—you? How did you know?"
"Ah! Bah—I saw you when you crossed the terrace. I saw you were carrying some one. Is it Madame?"
"No, no; a girl—younger than we are. Oh, Madelon, you will help us?"
"Well, at least I won't harm you—you know that; but you are safe enough, so far, for no one else saw you. They were all watching to see the roof fall in over there to the right, and I should have been watching too, only that my cousin Anne had just been scolding me so for being there at all. She said my baby would have St. John's fire right across his face. She herself has a red patch over one eye, and only because her mother would sit staring at the embers. Well, I thought I would be prudent, so I bade Jean Jacques look instead of me, and turned my head the other way, and, just as the flames shot up, I saw you cross the terrace and go down the steps. And now, what are you going to do with Mademoiselle?"
This most pertinent question took them all aback, and Marguerite looked up with round, bewildered eyes; she certainly had no suggestions to make. At last Mlle Ange said slowly:
"She must come home with us."
"Impossible! No, no, that would never do, dear Ma'mselle."