Rosette swung her bare legs thoughtfully. "Papa Marigny is a man of his word—and you lack five of your half-dozen lives, Jean Paulet."
"See you it is dangerous!" returned her protector desperately. "My wife she is not here to advise me; she is in the fields——"
"I have noticed she works hard," murmured Rosette.
To the Uplands!
"And I will not keep you here. But for the respect I owe Monsieur de Marigny, I am willing to sacrifice something. I have a dozen of sheep in the field down there—ah! la, la! they represent a lifetime's savings, but I will sacrifice them for my safety—no, no; for Monsieur de Marigny, I mean!" he wailed. "You shall drive them to the uplands and stay there out of danger. I do not think you will meet with soldiers; but if you do, at the worst they will only take a sheep—ah! my sheep!" he broke off distressfully. "Now do not argue. Get you gone before my wife returns. See, I will put a little food in this handkerchief. There, you may tell Monsieur de Marigny I have been loyal to him. Go, go! and, above all, remember never to come near me again, or say those sheep are mine. You will be safe, quite safe."
Rosette laughed. "You have a kind heart, Jean Paulet," she mocked. "But I think perhaps you are right. You are too much of a poltroon to be a safe comrade in adversity."
She sprang from her chair and ran to the doorway. Then she looked back. "Hark you, Jean Paulet! This price upon my head—it is a fine price, hé? Well, I am little, but I have a tongue, and I know what my papa de Marigny knows. Ah! the fine tale to tell, if they catch us! Eh? Farewell."
She ran lightly across the yard, pausing a moment when a yellow mongrel dog leaped up and licked her chin. "Hé, Gegi, you love me better than your master does!" she said, stooping to pat his rough coat. "And you do not love your master any better than I do, eh? Why, then you had better keep sheep too! There is a brave idea. Come, Gegi, come!" And together they ran off through the sunshine.
It was very cold that autumn up on the higher lands, very cold and very lonely.