Part 51 (1/2)

”What is it, Gertrude?”

”On the way up to poor Oliver, I had to pa.s.s by Mademoiselle Victoria's door, and I heard the sound of footsteps within.”

”My sister did not go out, then?”

”Pardon me, monsieur; I saw mademoiselle leave the house, with my own eyes, and she gave me the key of her room.”

”That is truly strange! Who then can be there?”

”No one, monsieur, for your sister does not receive a soul. That is why the sound of steps astonished me so!”

”Explain yourself more clearly!”

”I mean I heard, or thought I heard, someone walking in mademoiselle's chamber. It could not be you, monsieur, because you are here. It could be neither madam nor her mother, for I had just seen them on the first floor as I went up to mademoiselle's; so I said to myself, 'Perhaps it is some rogue who has broken in!' Then I rapped at the door and called, 'Mademoiselle, are you there?' No answer. I rapped again; no answer. I said to myself, 'It surely must be some rascal or other!' I came down in haste to get the key; risking whatever might come, I opened the door, and, 'pon my faith----”

”That is what you should have done first thing. The mystery would have been solved at once. Whom did you find?”

”No one--absolutely no one. Everything was in good order, as it always is in mademoiselle's room. Her work table and her other little writing table were in their accustomed place, near the dormer window that looks on the garden, and as it was open I peeped out. I saw neither ladder nor cord which could have served anyone either for entry or escape. I looked under the bed, I opened the door of the closet--no one! Then I said to myself--”

”Whence it follows, my good Gertrude, that you thought you heard footsteps in my sister's room and that you were mistaken, that's all.

Now tell me, how did you find Oliver?”

”When I knocked at his door, the young man was sound asleep, for he did not hear me at first.”

”So much the better. If he sleeps deep it is a happy symptom. His fever has gone.”

”I asked him through the door how he was, and whether he needed anything. He told me he had lain down after taking his hot drink, and that he had slept till I woke him; that he felt better, and that he hoped to pa.s.s a good night. Thereupon he wished me good-even.”

”Poor boy--may his hope of rest be realized. Tell my wife, Gertrude, that I am going out to the shop, and not to be worried at my absence. I shall come in for supper at ten o'clock as usual.”

So saying, John pa.s.sed out of the parlor and went to join his comrades in the smithy.

CHAPTER XXIII.

TO THE WORKMAN THE TOOL.

The factory of implements of war, established by John Lebrenn in his iron works, took the toil of twenty workmen. All--apprentices, old men, young men--vied with one another in patriotic ardor in the accomplishment of their task. They felt that this was no ordinary labor.

They were conscious of serving the Republic, and lavished their skill on the arms destined for the patriots at the front. Accordingly, with what eagerness did not these artisans forge, beat, or file the iron, lighted here by a smoky lamp against the wall, there by the reverberating glow of the furnace. The ringing cadence of the hammers on the anvils was often accompanied by the popular songs of the period chanted in chorus by the workmen's st.u.r.dy voices. Most oft it was the Ma.r.s.eillaise, the Carmagnole, or the famous _ca Ira_, whose brief and rapid rythm seemed to beat the ”Charge!”

Songs and labors both stopped short at the entrance of John Lebrenn.

Castillon had notified the shop a few minutes before that 'friend John,'

as they cordially called him, was coming to post them on the events of the coming day, and to supply the information of which they had for some time been deprived.

”Citizens,” said Castillon when he saw Lebrenn, ”I rise to a motion! In order to lose as little time as possible, and in order to hear friend John without halting the work, let us set aside for an hour our hammers and files, and put in the time fitting or polis.h.i.+ng our pieces. That will make practically no noise, and in this way we shall not be idling, and still can hear friend John in comfort.”

”The motion is carried!” cried the workmen. In a few moments the bustle, consequent on the change of occupations, was over, and silence fell on the shop. John Lebrenn took his accustomed place, and speaking to several by name, thus addressed his companions: