“Sedition?” quoth he, and his thoughts flew to that business at Nantes. It was impossible they could have had news of it in Rennes and acted upon it in so short a time.
“Yes, sedition. The sedition of that wicked speech of yours at Rennes on Wednesday.”
“Oh, that!” said he. “Pooh!” His note of relief might have told her, had she been more attentive, that he had to fear the consequences of a greater wickedness committed since. “Why, that was nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I almost suspect that the real intentions of these gentlemen of the marechaussee have been misunderstood. Most probably they have come to thank me on M. de Lesdiguieres’ behalf. I restrained the people when they would have burnt the Palais and himself inside it.”
“After you had first incited them to do it. I suppose you were afraid of your work. You drew back at the last moment. But you said things of M. de Lesdiguieres, if you are correctly reported, which he will never forgive.”
“I see,” said Andre-Louis, and he fell into thought.
But Mlle. de Kercadiou had already done what thinking was necessary, and her alert young mind had settled all that was to be done.
“You must not go into Gavrillac,” she told him, “and you must get down from your horse, and let me take it. I will stable it at the chateau to-night. And sometime to-morrow afternoon, by when you should be well away, I will return it to the Breton arme.”
“Oh, but that is impossible.”