'His comrades agreed to this plan, which gave an adventurous tone to their enterprise, and inflicted, as well, extra misery upon their prisoner.
'A scrap of paper and a pencil were given to my grandfather; but, as he was writing, Philippe remembered with joy that the old clock on which his captors were relying had not yet lost its five minutes that day; he had noticed this as he glanced round the hall before his capture; and, therefore, at a quarter to six—the time when, by the clock, he was going to be put to death—it might be ten minutes to the hour by the proper time—if the clock only went wrong for once at a convenient time!
'The peasant-boy, Pierre, was sent with the message, and the men settled themselves down to ransacking the house, exulting over the trick they were going to play.
'The time crept by. As a quarter to six drew near Philippe was bound to a tree, and the men set to work to load their muskets! Had the clock lost five minutes, or not? Every minute of waiting seemed like an hour, and Philippe could not be sure whether the hand had stuck still too long, or not. He thought it had, but could he trust his eyes in such a terrible situation?
'You can imagine my grandfather's feelings during those last few awful minutes! A hundred conjectures flashed through his mind. Suppose the boy never gave the message! or suppose the men were late! or suppose the clock was not slow after all!
'At last the Republicans were ready, and Philippe gave himself up for lost. Suddenly the sound of horses' hoofs was heard breaking through the undergrowth. The Republicans hesitated, and, as they stood undecided, ten or a dozen men rode up hastily. They were only just in time; the Republicans fought for a few minutes, but they were taken by surprise, and soon surrendered. Philippe was saved!'
'What a narrow escape, Mother,' we cried, 'and if it had not been for the old clock's habit of losing time——'
'Well, my dear, the story would have ended very differently.'