"It is my son, Robert," cried the old man. "I did not recognize your voice until after I had spoken; but I am no good citizen of your present disorderly Republic."
"Is all well at the château?" repeated Robert Tournay.
"Well? How can we all be well when the doors are broken in and the furniture strewn about the place in pieces? Can I call all well when"—
"Mademoiselle Edmé?" interrupted Robert, with impatience, "how about her?"
"She has gone," said Matthieu Tournay.
"Gone!" cried Robert, clutching his father by the shoulder. "Gone—how and where?"
"You need not be alarmed for her safety," said the old man; "she is with Agatha,—a brave, clever girl, capable of anything. They set out this very night to seek a refuge with some relatives of Agatha who will keep them in safety."
"And you permitted them to go?" demanded the younger Tournay, almost shaking his father in his excitement.
"Permitted them? Yes, and encouraged them. I would myself have gone with them if I had not feared that my feebleness would impede rather than assist their flight. As it is, you need have no apprehension; when Agatha undertakes a thing she carries it through, and mademoiselle also is resolute and strong-willed. They will be safe enough, I warrant."
"Where did they go?" asked Robert.