“And so do I,” said Dupré to himself, noiselessly withdrawing his head; “I know enough;—the villains! I was not mistaken! We have given hospitality to brigands! O my God! inspire me, so that I may save my master and that poor woman!”
The old servant crept along the roof and reëntered the loft. Despite all he could do to revive his spirits and his courage, his legs trembled, he could hardly hold himself erect, and his imagination, thrown into confusion by all that he had heard, saw nothing but scenes of blood and death. Dupré was sixty-five years old; at that age, a man is a long time coming to a decision; and in dangerous crises, the time that he loses in making up his mind as to what he shall do makes the danger more imminent.
Dupré felt his way through the loft. Should he wake his master or Lucas? But the gardener did not wake easily, he would have to make much noise at his door, and in the silence of the night, the slightest sound would be heard by the robbers and would arouse their suspicions. Catherine was locked into her kitchen, and would be of no assistance to them. But it was the young woman’s apartment through which the comrades of the brigands were to enter the house; it was most essential to close that entrance, after removing Constance and her daughter from the room.
This plan seemed the wisest to the old servant. He decided to go downstairs, but he trembled and shuddered as he placed his foot on the staircase. If the villains should come out of their room and meet him, he would be lost! He listened before venturing upon each step; at the slightest sound he stopped. He was about to pass the door of the second floor; but he heard voices and footsteps. The door was thrown open, and Dupré hurried back to the loft.
The pretended peddlers had heard a noise above their heads; the old man’s heavy step had made the boards creak and had disturbed the silence of the night. Dufresne left the room first; he held a torch in one hand and a dagger in the other. Lampin followed, and they entered the loft just as the old servant was crawling under a bundle of straw.
“We are betrayed!” said Dufresne; “someone has been listening to us.”
He instantly plunged his dagger into the old man’s bosom, as he clasped his hands to implore mercy. Dupré expired without uttering a sound; his blood inundated the floor, and Lampin covered the ill-fated servant’s body with straw.
“Let us go down,” said Dufresne; “and as suspicion has been aroused, let us make haste to act!”
“What has happened?” asked Edouard, who had remained on the landing as a sentinel.
“Nothing,” said Lampin; “only there is one less prying fool.”