And
Mademoiselle has bought me my uncle Thomas's big house for fifteen
hundred francs, and I have saved two thousand beside."
But her smiles and the announcement of her wealth fell dead before the
dogged immovability of the Chouan.
"The priests have told us to go to war," he replied. "Every Blue we
shoot earns one indulgence."
"But suppose the Blues shoot you?"
He answered by letting his arms drop at his sides, as if regretting
the poverty of the offering he should thus make to God and the king.
"What will become of me?" exclaimed the young girl, sorrowfully.
Marche-a-Terre looked at her stupidly; his eyes seemed to enlarge;
tears rolled down his hairy cheeks upon the goatskin which covered
him, and a low moan came from his breast.
"Saint Anne of Auray!--Pierre, is this all you have to say to me after
a parting of seven years? You have changed indeed."
"I love you the same as ever," said the Chouan, in a gruff voice.
"No," she whispered, "the king is first."
"If you look at me like that I shall go," he said.
"Well, then, adieu," she replied, sadly.
"Adieu," he repeated.
He seized her hand, wrung it, kissed it, made the sign of the cross,
and rushed into the stable, like a dog who fears that his bone will be
taken from him.
"Pille-Miche," he said to his comrade. "Where's your tobacco-box?"
"Ho! /sacre bleu/! what a fine chain!" cried Pille-Miche, fumbling in
a pocket constructed in his goatskin.
Pages:
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147