"You will be with us, Father?" said Julie anxiously.
He shook his head.
"My place is in the open street with such of my people as feel strong and brave in their innocence and faith. But you have English charges. If it was known, Mademoiselle, believe me, nothing would save them or you. Their fury against the English is so great."
"Shall we take Jules? Besides him, there is only our faithful Babette."
Before the Curé could reply Jules intervened, scratching his old grey head.
"I hide not from them, Mademoiselle; I will stay and guard the Château and keep them out, if I can, barbarians that they are, making war on women and children."
"They will shoot you, Jules, if you are so foolish," his mistress reminded him. His answer was a shrug of the shoulders.
"A man dies but once—that is to say, a good man, who has faith in God and does his duty."
So saying, Jules went back to take up his waiting duty.
The Curé departed the way he had come, and Julie Ledru, with a feeling of strange calm upon her, hurried indoors to make her few simple preparations. Babette, the elderly servant, one of the best of the old Brabant type, was cool and ready for any emergency, and in an incredibly short time they had packed some food and a few necessaries in two considerable baskets. Then Mademoiselle Ledru essayed the task she dreaded—that of awaking her two young charges, and preparing them for the ordeal through which they had to pass.