Part 24 (2/2)

”He is a farmer down there,” nodding vaguely as she spoke.

”Hark you! Have you by any chance seen a man bigger than the average skulking thereabouts?”

She shook her head. ”There are few big men round here--none so fine as you!” she said prettily.

The man gave a proud laugh. ”Ah! we of Paris are a fine race.”

Rosette nodded. ”My Master is a good republican. You will let me take him back the sheep,” she coaxed.

”Why, those that remain,” the soldier replied, with a grin. ”Sho! sho!

Those that run you can follow. Ah, behold!” Rosette needed no second bidding, but started after the remnant of her little troop.

”He!” called one of the soldiers to his comrades--and the wind bore the words to Rosette--”you are fools to let that child pa.s.s! For aught we know, she may be spying for the rebels.”

As the men stared after her irresolute, Rosette slackened her pace, flung up her head, and in her clear childish treble began to sing that ferocious chant, then at the height of its popularity, which is now the national hymn of France. So singing, she walked steadily down the long road, hopeful that she might yet save the man who was a father to her.

It was almost dusk outside the desolate, half-ruined chateau of La Plastiere. Within its walls the shadows of night were already thickly gathered--shadows so dark that a man might have lurked unseen in them.

Some such thought came to Rosette as she stood hesitating in the great hall. How silent the place was! The only noises came from without--the wind sobbing strangely in the garden, the ghostly rustling of the leaves, the moan of the dark, swift river. Ah! there was something moving in the great hall! What was it? A rat dashed by, close to Rosette's feet; then the hall settled again into unbroken silence.

The child's heart beat quickly. She hated, feared, the shadows and the quiet.

Yet she must go forward; she dare not call aloud, and she must find de Marigny, if, indeed, he was still there.

She groped her way to the broad stone stairs. How dark it was! She glanced up fearfully. Surely something up above her in the shadow on the stairway moved. She shrank back.

”Coward! little coward!” she muttered. And to scare away her fear she began to sing softly, very softly, a tender little song de Marigny himself had taught to her.

”Stay thy hand, man! It is Rosette!” cried a voice from above her, shattering the silence. And the shadow that had moved before moved again, and a man from crouching on the step rose suddenly in front of her.

”Why did you not speak? I thought we were like to be discovered, and I had nearly killed you. Curse this dark!”

”Hus.h.!.+” whispered Rosette. ”Hus.h.!.+ you are betrayed! The soldiers are coming. Oh, Papa de Marigny,” she murmured, as he came down the stairway, ”they are to be here at dusk. Is it too late? I tried to get here sooner, but--it was such a long road!” she ended, with a sob.

De Marigny gathered her in his arms. ”And such a little traveller! Never mind, sweetheart, we will cheat them yet,” he said tenderly. ”Warn the others, Lacroix!”

[Sidenote: Flight]

But Lacroix had done that already. The house was full now of stealthy sounds and moving shadows descending the great staircase. De Marigny, carrying Rosette, led the way across the garden behind the house, towards the river that cut the countryside in half. The stillness of the night was broken suddenly by the neighing of a not far distant horse.

”The soldiers! the rebels, papa!” cried Rosette.

De Marigny whispered softly to one of his companions, who ran swiftly away from him, and busied himself drawing from its hiding-place a small boat. They could hear the tramp of horses now, near, very near, and yet the men seated silent in the boat held tightly to the bank.

Hark! The thud, thud of running footsteps came to Rosette, nearer, nearer, and the man for whom they waited sprang from the bank into their midst.

A moment later they were caught by the swift current and carried out into the centre of the broad river.

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