III.
Nearer and nearer to the devoted village swept the wild current of war; for the wide-spreading force of the Republican arms was now driving the gallant Vendéans to the more remote and difficult positions. Margot's village became the headquarters of one of the retreating bodies of Royalists. All was bustle and excitement. The seigneur, having escaped death in several desperate encounters, had reached again his own roof, there to enjoy such a measure of repose as his anxiety would allow him. The general commanding, with his staff, was, of course, lodged in the château. Margot was appointed washerwoman to the whole establishment. This provided her with ample employment for both day and night, and put besides a lot of money into her pocket.
"She started back in dismay."
One night, as the girl was busily preparing linen, some which was to be delivered at the château on the following day, she heard a gentle knock at the outer door. She raised the latch unhesitatingly, but started back in dismay at sight of the figure standing there of a young soldier in the Republican uniform, unarmed, with pale face, and a ghastly wound upon his forehead. One arm was bound with a coarse handkerchief, and supported by his cravat, which served as a sling. His feet were bare, his clothes torn in several places, and covered with dust and mire. "Hide me!" he said, in a hoarse, hurried whisper. Royalist though Margot was, she could not withstand this appeal. She drew him quickly in, and fastened the door.
La Crosse (for such was the stranger's name) then told Margot that he had that day, after a skirmish in the neighbourhood, been brought as a prisoner to the village. After a brief examination by the Royalist officers, he had been thrust into a wretched hovel. His guards had kept careless watch, and he had contrived to make his escape. While searching for a hiding-place, he had been attracted by the light in the cottage window, and, seeing through the lattice that there was only a young woman within, he had determined to throw himself upon her protection. The poor fellow entreated Margot to shelter him. Not in vain. She led him softly to her own little chamber, and insisted on his occupying her bed. She warmed some water, with which she bathed his wounded forehead and lacerated feet. She next bound up his contused arm, then brought him food and drink, of which he stood in sore need. After that he fell asleep, and Margot, who had had by this time sufficient experience to see that his wounds were not dangerous, left him. She spent the remainder of the night on an arm-chair by the kitchen fire, laying plans for her guest's complete escape.
IV.
Morning dawned, and the wearied-out man still slept. Margot, again busy in her kitchen, was feeling strangely happy, although she knew that she had put herself in peril of punishment, should her aiding and abetting be discovered. But as she opened the casement to admit the delicious morning air, she saw a sight which struck a chill to her heart.
