leave here about five and go down to the bay toward the Mount, and there on the sands we shall fight. And—listen now—you must follow us, about half an hour after we have gone.”
“But they will not let me go.”
“Go you must. Marie, here is a pistol. Take it; and if anyone stops you, use it. But I think none will; for the duke will be with me, and I do not think Bontet will interfere.”
“But my mother?”
“You are as strong as she.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll come. You’ll be on the sands; I’ll come!” The help she had found in me made her brave now.
“You will get there as we are fighting or soon after. Do not look for me or for the duke, but look for two gentlemen whom you do not know, they will be there—French officers—and to their honor you must trust.”
“But why not to you?”
“If I am alive and well, I shall not fail you; but if I come not, go to them and demand their protection from the duke, telling them how he has snared you here. And they will not suffer him to carry you off against your will. Do you see? Do you understand?”
“Yes, I see. But must you fight?”
“Yes, dear, I must fight. The duke will not trouble you again, I think, before the evening; and if you remember what I have told you, all will be well.”
So I tried to comfort her, believing as I did that no two French gentlemen would desire or dare to refuse her their protection against the
