"Good Heavens!" whispered the nun to Victoire: "I should know the face of
that man who is loading his musket--the very man whom I nursed ten years
ago when he was ill with a gaol fever!"
This man, who stood in the midst of the crowd, taller by the head than
the others, seemed to be the leader of the party; they were disputing
whether they should proceed further, spend the remainder of the night in
the village ale-house, or return to Paris. Their leader ordered spirits
to be distributed to his associates, and exhorted them in a loud voice to
proceed in their glorious work. Tossing his firebrand over his head he
declared that he would never return to Paris till he had razed to the
ground the Chateau de Fleury. At these words, Victoire, forgetful of all
personal danger, ran out into the midst of the mob, pressed her way up to
the leader of these ruffians, caught him by the arm, exclaiming, "You
will not touch a stone in the Chateau de Fleury--I have my reasons--I say
you will not suffer a stone in the Chateau de Fleury to be touched."
"And why not?" cried the man, turning astonished; "and who are you that I
should listen to you?"
"No matter who I am," said Victoire; "follow me and I will show you one
to whom you will not refuse to listen. Here!--here she is," continued
Victoire, pointing to the nun, who had followed her in amazement; "here
is one to whom you will listen--yes, look at her well: hold the light to
her face.
Pages:
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174