Part 8 (2/2)
The trees which you will find marked with a red dot on the plan have a black mark at their foot close to the earth. Each of these trees is a sign-post. At the foot of the third old oak which stands to the left of each sign-post, two feet in front of it and buried seven feet in the ground, you will find a large metal tube; in each tube are one hundred thousand francs in gold. These eleven trees--there are only eleven--contain the whole fortune of the Simeuse brothers, now that Gondreville has been taken from them.”
”It will take a hundred years for the n.o.bility to recover from such blows,” said Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne, slowly.
”Is there a pa.s.s-word?” asked Michu.
”'France and Charles' for the soldiers, 'Laurence and Louis' for the Messieurs d'Hauteserre and Simeuse. Good G.o.d! to think that I saw them yesterday for the first time in eleven years, and that now they are in danger of death--and what a death! Michu,” she said, with a melancholy look, ”be as prudent during the next fifteen hours as you have been grand and devoted during the last twelve years. If disaster were to overtake my cousins now I should die of it--No,” she added, quickly, ”I would live long enough to kill Bonaparte.”
”There will be two of us to do that when all is lost,” said Michu.
Laurence took his rough hand and wrung it warmly, as the English do.
Michu looked at his watch; it was midnight.
”We must leave here at any cost,” he said. ”Death to the gendarme who attempts to stop me! And you, madame la comtesse, without presuming to dictate, ride back to Cinq-Cygne as fast as you can. The police are there by this time; fool them! delay them!”
The hole once opened, Michu flung himself down with his ear to the earth; then he rose precipitately. ”The gendarmes are at the edge of the forest towards Troyes!” he said. ”Ha, I'll get the better of them yet!”
He helped the countess to come out, and replaced the stones. When this was done he heard her soft voice telling him she must see him mounted before mounting herself. Tears came to the eyes of the stern man as he exchanged a last look with his young mistress, whose own eyes were tearless.
”Fool them! yes, he is right!” she said when she heard him no longer.
Then she darted towards Cinq-Cygne at full gallop.
CHAPTER VIII. TRIALS OF THE POLICE
Madame d'Hauteserre, roused by the danger of her sons, and not believing that the Revolution was over, but still fearing its summary justice, recovered her senses by the violence of the same distress which made her lose them. Led by an agonizing curiosity she returned to the salon, which presented a picture worthy of the brush of a genre painter. The abbe, still seated at the card-table and mechanically playing with the counters, was covertly observing Corentin and Peyrade, who were standing together at a corner of the fireplace and speaking in a low voice.
Several times Corentin's keen eye met the not less keen glance of the priest; but, like two adversaries who knew themselves equally strong, and who return to their guard after crossing their weapons, each averted his eyes the instant they met. The worthy old d'Hauteserre, poised on his long thin legs like a heron, was standing beside the stout form of the mayor, in an att.i.tude expressive of utter stupefaction. The mayor, though dressed as a bourgeois, always looked like a servant. Each gazed with a bewildered eye at the gendarmes, in whose clutches Gothard was still sobbing, his hands purple and swollen from the tightness of the cord that bound them. Catherine maintained her att.i.tude of artless simplicity, which was quite impenetrable. The corporal, who, according to Corentin, had committed a great blunder in arresting these smaller fry, did not know whether to stay where he was or to depart. He stood pensively in the middle of the salon, his hand on the hilt of his sabre, his eye on the two Parisians. The Durieus, also stupefied, and the other servants of the chateau made an admirable group of expressive uneasiness. If it had not been for Gothard's convulsive snifflings those present could have heard the flies fly.
When Madame d'Hauteserre, pale and terrified, opened the door and entered the room, almost carried by Mademoiselle Goujet, whose red eyes had evidently been weeping, all faces turned to her at once. The two agents hoped as much as the household feared to see Laurence enter. This spontaneous movement of both masters and servants seemed produced by the sort of mechanism which makes a number of wooden figures perform the same gesture or wink the same eye.
Madame d'Hauteserre advanced by three rapid strides towards Corentin and said, in a broken voice but violently: ”For pity's sake, monsieur, tell me what my sons are accused of. Do you really think they have been here?”
The abbe, who seemed to be saying to himself when he saw the old lady, ”She will certainly commit some folly,” lowered his eyes.
”My duty and the mission I am engaged in forbid me to tell you,”
answered Corentin, with a gracious but rather mocking air.
This refusal, which the detestable politeness of the vulgar fop seemed to make all the more emphatic, petrified the poor mother, who fell into a chair beside the Abbe Goujet, clasped her hands and began to pray.
”Where did you arrest that blubber?” asked Corentin, addressing the corporal and pointing to Laurence's little henchman.
”On the road that leads to the farm along the park walls; the little scamp had nearly reached the Closeaux woods,” replied the corporal.
”And that girl?”
”She? oh, it was Oliver who caught her.”
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