[1]. None of Vaurin’s villains were taken by the English at the time of the great capture, for none dared come within a league of an English proclamation lest it should turn into a rope to throttle them.—P. G.
Le Fûret smiled to himself; but Yvonne almost laughed aloud as she ran, deaf to the growing roar at the farther end of the village and heedless of the flaring crimson that made the air like blood. The wharf, when she reached it, was in a final spasm of confusion, and shouted orders, and sobbings. Now, she grew cautious. Drawing her cloak close about her face, she pushed through the crowd toward the boat.
Just then a firm hand was laid upon her arm, and a very low voice said in her ear,—with less surprise, to be sure, than on a former occasion by Gaspereau lower ford,—
“You here, Mademoiselle de Lamourie?”
Her heart stood still; and she turned upon him a look of such imploring, desperate dismay that Lieutenant Waldron without another word drew her to one side. Then she found voice.
“Oh, if you have any mercy, any pity, do not betray me,” she whispered.
“But what does this mean? It is my duty to ask,” he persisted, still puzzled.
“I am trying to save my life, my soul, everything, before it’s too late!” she said.
“Oh,” said he, comprehending suddenly. “Well, I think you had better not tell me anything more. I think it is not my duty to say anything about this meeting. You may be doing right. I wish you good fortune and good-by, mademoiselle!”—and, to her wonder, he was off among the crowd.
Still trembling from the encounter, she hastened to the boat.