“I beg your pardon also—provisionally,” he replied, with a pleasant air. “I am the last to believe a gentleman a spy, and I am confident you will clear yourself of the unavoidable charge. You are a soldier. You must see it to be unavoidable,” he added.
“I do, monsieur,” said I sorrowfully. “I have lain for months, wounded and delirious, in a hiding-place not far off, nursed by a faithful friend. Having just recovered, I came here for a farewell to dear friends; and you have arrived inopportunely, monsieur.”
There was the bitterness of final despair beneath the lightness which I assumed.
“Your action seems to me very pardonable, I assure you,” said he. “But I am not the judge. We must go.” And he motioned his men to me.
But Yvonne came close to my side and laid her hand lightly on my arm.
“It is my wish, Monsieur Waldron,” she said, “that Captain Grande should escort me, with your assistance, and that of your guard also, if you will!”
“Why, certainly, mademoiselle, it shall be as you wish,” he said, with a ghost of a smile, which set her blushing wildly. “I have Captain Grande’s sword and his”—
“And my word,” said I, bowing.
“And his parole,” he continued. “I need in no way constrain him till we reach the—the chapel. I will lead my men a little in the rear, and strive not to interrupt your conversation.”
“I can never thank you enough for your courtesy, monsieur,” said I.