Part 23 (2/2)

”Ah, bah! What is to prevent my abandoning you?” asked the farmer furiously.

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.

[Sidenote: 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, he?

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. ”He, 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 suns.h.i.+ne.

It was very cold that autumn up on the higher lands, very cold and very lonely.

Also several days had pa.s.sed since Rosette had ventured down to the nearest friendly farm to seek for food, and her little store of provisions was nearly finished.

”You and I must eat, Gegi. Stay with the sheep, little one, while I go and see if I can reach some house in safety.” And, the yellow mongrel offering no objection, Rosette started.

She was not the only person in La Vendee who lacked food. Thousands of loyal peasants starved, and the republican soldiers themselves were not too plentifully supplied. Certainly they grumbled bitterly sometimes, as did that detachment of them who sheltered themselves from the keen wind under the thick hedge that divided the rough road leading to La Plastiere from the fields.

”Bah! we live like pigs in these days!” growled one of the men.

”It is nothing,” said another. ”Think what we shall get at La Plastiere!

The village has a few fat farmers, who have escaped pillaging so far by the love they bore, as they said, to the good republic. But that is ended: once we have caught this rascal Marigny in their midst, we can swear they are not good republicans.”

”But,” objected the first speaker, ”they may say they knew nothing of this Marigny hiding in the chateau!”

”They may say so--but we need not believe them!” returned his companion.

”Ah, bah! I would believe or not believe anything, so long as it brought us a good meal! How long before we reach this village, comrade?”

”Till nightfall. We would not have Marigny watch our coming. This time we will make sure of the scoundrel.”

Rosette, standing hidden behind the hedge, clenched her hands tightly at the word. She would have given much to have flung it back at the man, but prudence suggested it would be better to be discreet and help Marigny. She turned and ran along under the hedge, and away back to where she had left her little flock, her bare feet falling noiselessly on the damp ground.

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