"Why should I not say it?" replied the marquis, sharply; "and I'll
say, further, that the great and heroic days of La Vendee are over."
"Monsieur le marquis, we can perform miracles without you."
"Yes, like that of Marie Lambrequin, whom I hear you have brought to
life," said the marquis, smiling. "Come, come, let us have no rancor,
abbe. I know that you run all risks and would shoot a Blue as readily
as you say an /oremus/. God willing, I hope to make you assist with a
mitre on your head at the king's coronation."
This last remark must have had some magic power, for the click of a
musket was heard as the abbe exclaimed, "I have fifty cartridges in my
pocket, monsieur le marquis, and my life is the king's."
"He's a debtor of mine," whispered the usurer to Marie. "I don't mean
the five or six hundred crowns he has borrowed, but a debt of blood
which I hope to make him pay. He can never suffer as much evil as I
wish him, the damned Jesuit! He swore the death of my brother, and
raised the country against him. Why? Because the poor man was afraid
of the new laws." Then, after applying his ear to another part of his
hiding-place, he added, "They are all decamping, those brigands. I
suppose they are going to do some other miracle elsewhere. I only hope
they won't bid me good-bye as they did the last time, by setting fire
to my house.
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