CHAPTER I. THE TRESPASSERS
Coming presently upon the Redon road, Andre-Louis, obeying instinctrather than reason, turned his face to the south, and plodded wearilyand mechanically forward. He had no clear idea of whither he was going,or of whither he should go. All that imported at the moment was to putas great a distance as possible between Gavrillac and himself.
He had a vague, half-formed notion of returning to Nantes; and there, byemploying the newly found weapon of his oratory, excite the people intosheltering him as the first victim of the persecution he had foreseen,and against which he had sworn them to take up arms. But the idea wasone which he entertained merely as an indefinite possibility upon whichhe felt no real impulse to act.
Meanwhile he chuckled at the thought of Fresnel as he had last seen him,with his muffled face and glaring eyeballs. "For one who was anythingbut a man of action," he writes, "I felt that I had acquitted myselfnone so badly." It is a phrase that recurs at intervals in his sketchy"Confessions." Constantly is he reminding you that he is a man of mentaland not physical activities, and apologizing when dire necessitydrives him into acts of violence. I suspect this insistence uponhis philosophic detachment--for which I confess he had justificationenough--to betray his besetting vanity.
With increasing fatigue came depression and self-criticism. He hadstupidly overshot his mark in insultingly denouncing M. de Lesdiguieres."It is much better," he says somewhere, "to be wicked than to be stupid.Most of this world's misery is the fruit not as priests tell us ofwickedness, but of stupidity." And we know that of all stupidities heconsidered anger the most deplorable. Yet he had permitted himself tobe angry with a creature like M. de Lesdiguieres--a lackey, a fribble,a nothing, despite his potentialities for evil. He could perfectly havedischarged his self-imposed mission without arousing the vindictiveresentment of the King's Lieutenant.
He beheld himself vaguely launched upon life with the riding-suit inwhich he stood, a single louis d'or and a few pieces of silver for allcapital, and a knowledge of law which had been inadequate to preservehim from the consequences of infringing it.
He had, in addition--but these things that were to be the real salvationof him he did not reckon--his gift of laughter, sadly repressed of late,and the philosophic outlook and mercurial temperament which are thestock-in-trade of your adventurer in all ages.
Meanwhile he tramped mechanically on through the night, until he feltthat he could tramp no more. He had skirted the little township ofGuichen, and now within a half-mile of Guignen, and with Gavrillac agood seven miles behind him, his legs refused to carry him any farther.
He was midway across the vast common to the north of Guignen whenhe came to a halt. He had left the road, and taken heedlessly tothe footpath that struck across the waste of indifferent pastureinterspersed with clumps of gorse. A stone's throw away on his right thecommon was bordered by a thorn hedge. Beyond this loomed a tall buildingwhich he knew to be an open barn, standing on the edge of a long stretchof meadowland. That dark, silent shadow it may have been that hadbrought him to a standstill, suggesting shelter to his subconsciousness.A moment he hesitated; then he struck across towards a spot where a gapin the hedge was closed by a five-barred gate. He pushed the gate open,went through the gap, and stood now before the barn. It was as big asa house, yet consisted of no more than a roof carried upon half a dozentall, brick pillars. But densely packed under that roof was a greatstack of hay that promised a warm couch on so cold a night. Stouttimbers had been built into the brick pillars, with projecting ends toserve as ladders by which the labourer might climb to pack or withdrawhay. With what little strength remained him, Andre-Louis climbed by oneof these and landed safely at the top, where he was forced to kneel, forlack of room to stand upright. Arrived there, he removed his coat andneckcloth, his sodden boots and stockings. Next he cleared a trough forhis body, and lying down in it, covered himself to the neck with the hayhe had removed. Within five minutes he was lost to all worldly cares andsoundly asleep.
When next he awakened, the sun was already high in the heavens, fromwhich he concluded that the morning was well advanced; and this beforehe realized quite where he was or how he came there. Then to hisawakening senses came a drone of voices close at hand, to which at firsthe paid little heed. He was deliciously refreshed, luxuriously drowsyand luxuriously warm.
But as consciousness and memory grew more full, he raised his head clearof the hay that he might free both ears to listen, his pulses faintlyquickened by the nascent fear that those voices might bode him no good.Then he caught the reassuring accents of a woman, musical and silvery,though laden with alarm.
"Ah, mon Dieu, Leandre, let us separate at once. If it should be myfather..."
And upon this a man's voice broke in, calm and reassuring:
"No, no, Climene; you are mistaken. There is no one coming. We are quitesafe. Why do you start at shadows?"
"Ah, Leandre, if he should find us here together! I tremble at the verythought."
More was not needed to reassure Andre-Louis. He had overheard enough toknow that this was but the case of a pair of lovers who, with less tofear of life, were yet--after the manner of their kind--more timid ofheart than he. Curiosity drew him from his warm trough to the edge ofthe hay. Lying prone, he advanced his head and peered down.
In the space of cropped meadow between the barn and the hedge stood aman and a woman, both young. The man was a well-set-up, comely fellow,with a fine head of chestnut hair tied in a queue by a broad bow ofblack satin. He was dressed with certain tawdry attempts at ostentatiousembellishments, which did not prepossess one at first glance in hisfavour. His coat of a fashionable cut was of faded plum-coloured velvetedged with silver lace, whose glory had long since departed. He affectedruffles, but for want of starch they hung like weeping willows overhands that were fine and delicate. His breeches were of plain blackcloth, and his black stockings were of cotton--matters entirely out ofharmony with his magnificent coat. His shoes, stout and serviceable,were decked with buckles of cheap, lack-lustre paste. But for hisengaging and ingenuous countenance, Andre-Louis must have set him downas a knight of that order which lives dishonestly by its wits. As itwas, he suspended judgment whilst pushing investigation further by astudy of the girl. At the outset, be it confessed that it was a studythat attracted him prodigiously. And this notwithstanding the fact that,bookish and studious as were his ways, and in despite of his years, itwas far from his habit to waste consideration on femininity.
The child--she was no more than that, perhaps twenty at themost--possessed, in addition to the allurements of face and shape thatwent very near perfection, a sparkling vivacity and a grace of movementthe like of which Andre-Louis did not remember ever before to havebeheld assembled in one person. And her voice too--that musical, silveryvoice that had awakened him--possessed in its exquisite modulations anallurement of its own that must have been irresistible, he thought, inthe ugliest of her sex. She wore a hooded mantle of green cloth, and thehood being thrown back, her dainty head was all revealed to him. Therewere glints of gold struck by the morning sun from her light nut-brownhair that hung in a cluster of curls about her oval face. Her complexionwas of a delicacy that he could compare only with a rose petal. He couldnot at that distance discern the colour of her eyes, but he guessed themblue, as he admired the sparkle of them under the fine, dark line ofeyebrows.
He could not have told you why, but he was conscious that it aggrievedhim to find her so intimate with this pretty young fellow, who waspartly clad, as it appeared, in the cast-offs of a nobleman. He couldnot guess her station, but the speech that reached him was cultured intone and word. He strained to listen.
"I shall know no peace, Leandre, until we are safely wedded," she wassaying. "Not until then shall I count myself beyond his reach. And yetif we marry without his consent, we but make trouble for ourselves, andof gaining his consent I almost despair."
Evidently, thought Andre-Louis, her father was a man of sense, who sawthrough the shabb
y finery of M. Leandre, and was not to be dazzled bycheap paste buckles.
"My dear Climene," the young man was answering her, standing squarelybefore her, and holding both her hands, "you are wrong to despond. If Ido not reveal to you all the stratagem that I have prepared to win theconsent of your unnatural parent, it is because I am loath to rob you ofthe pleasure of the surprise that is in store. But place your faith inme, and in that ingenious friend of whom I have spoken, and who shouldbe here at any moment."
The stilted ass! Had he learnt that speech by heart in advance, or washe by nature a pedantic idiot who expressed himself in this set andformal manner? How came so sweet a blossom to waste her perfumes on sucha prig? And what a ridiculous name the creature owned!
Thus Andre-Louis to himself from his observatory. Meanwhile, she wasspeaking.
"That is what my heart desires, Leandre, but I am beset by fears lestyour stratagem should be too late. I am to marry this horrible Marquisof Sbrufadelli this very day. He arrives by noon. He comes to sign thecontract--to make me the Marchioness of Sbrufadelli. Oh!" It was a cry ofpain from that tender young heart. "The very name burns my lips. If itwere mine I could never utter it--never! The man is so detestable. Saveme, Leandre. Save me! You are my only hope."
Andre-Louis was conscious of a pang of disappointment. She failed tosoar to the heights he had expected of her. She was evidently infectedby the stilted manner of her ridiculous lover. There was an atrociouslack of sincerity about her words. They touched his mind, but left hisheart unmoved. Perhaps this was because of his antipathy to M. Leandreand to the issue involved.
So her father was marrying her to a marquis! That implied birth onher side. And yet she was content to pair off with this dull youngadventurer in the tarnished lace! It was, he supposed, the sort of thingto be expected of a sex that all philosophy had taught him to regard asthe maddest part of a mad species.
"It shall never be!" M. Leandre was storming passionately. "Never! Iswear it!" And he shook his puny fist at the blue vault of heaven--Ajaxdefying Jupiter. "Ah, but here comes our subtle friend..." (Andre-Louisdid not catch the name, M. Leandre having at that moment turned to facethe gap in the hedge.) "He will bring us news, I know."
Andre-Louis looked also in the direction of the gap. Through it emergeda lean, slight man in a rusty cloak and a three-cornered hat worn welldown over his nose so as to shade his face. And when presently hedoffed this hat and made a sweeping bow to the young lovers, Andre-Louisconfessed to himself that had he been cursed with such a hangdogcountenance he would have worn his hat in precisely such a manner, soas to conceal as much of it as possible. If M. Leandre appeared tobe wearing, in part at least, the cast-offs of nobleman, the newcomerappeared to be wearing the cast-offs of M. Leandre. Yet despite his vileclothes and viler face, with its three days' growth of beard, thefellow carried himself with a certain air; he positively strutted as headvanced, and he made a leg in a manner that was courtly and practised.
"Monsieur," said he, with the air of a conspirator, "the time for actionhas arrived, and so has the Marquis... That is why."
The young lovers sprang apart in consternation Climene with claspedhands, parted lips, and a bosom that raced distractingly under its whitefichu-menteur; M. Leandre agape, the very picture of foolishness anddismay.
Meanwhile the newcomer rattled on. "I was at the inn an hour ago whenhe descended there, and I studied him attentively whilst he was atbreakfast. Having done so, not a single doubt remains me of our success.As for what he looks like, I could entertain you at length upon thefashion in which nature has designed his gross fatuity. But that is nomatter. We are concerned with what he is, with the wit of him. And Itell you confidently that I find him so dull and stupid that you may beconfident he will tumble headlong into each and all of the traps I haveso cunningly prepared for him."
"Tell me, tell me! Speak!" Climene implored him, holding out her handsin a supplication no man of sensibility could have resisted. And thenon the instant she caught her breath on a faint scream. "My father!" sheexclaimed, turning distractedly from one to the other of those two. "Heis coming! We are lost!"
"You must fly, Climene!" said M. Leandre.
"Too late!" she sobbed. "Too late! He is here."
"Calm, mademoiselle, calm!" the subtle friend was urging her. "Keep calmand trust to me. I promise you that all shall be well."
"Oh!" cried M. Leandre, limply. "Say what you will, my friend, this isruin--the end of all our hopes. Your wits will never extricate us fromthis. Never!"
Through the gap strode now an enormous man with an inflamed moonface and a great nose, decently dressed after the fashion of a solidbourgeois. There was no mistaking his anger, but the expression that itfound was an amazement to Andre-Louis.
"Leandre, you're an imbecile! Too much phlegm, too much phlegm! Yourwords wouldn't convince a ploughboy! Have you considered what they meanat all? Thus," he cried, and casting his round hat from him in a broadgesture, he took his stand at M. Leandre's side, and repeated the verywords that Leandre had lately uttered, what time the three observed himcoolly and attentively.
"Oh, say what you will, my friend, this is ruin--the end of all ourhopes. Your wits will never extricate us from this. Never!"
A frenzy of despair vibrated in his accents. He swung again to face M.Leandre. "Thus," he bade him contemptuously. "Let the passion of yourhopelessness express itself in your voice. Consider that you are notasking Scaramouche here whether he has put a patch in your breeches. Youare a despairing lover expressing..."
He checked abruptly, startled. Andre-Louis, suddenly realizing what wasafoot, and how duped he had been, had loosed his laughter. The soundof it pealing and booming uncannily under the great roof that soimmediately confined him was startling to those below.
The fat man was the first to recover, and he announced it after his ownfashion in one of the ready sarcasms in which he habitually dealt.
"Hark!" he cried, "the very gods laugh at you, Leandre." Then headdressed the roof of the barn and its invisible tenant. "Hi! Youthere!"
Andre-Louis revealed himself by a further protrusion of his tousledhead.
"Good-morning," said he, pleasantly. Rising now on his knees, hishorizon was suddenly extended to include the broad common beyond thehedge. He beheld there an enormous and very battered travelling chaise,a cart piled up with timbers partly visible under the sheet of oiledcanvas that covered them, and a sort of house on wheels equipped witha tin chimney, from which the smoke was slowly curling. Three heavyFlemish horses and a couple of donkeys--all of them hobbled--werecontentedly cropping the grass in the neighbourhood of these vehicles.These, had he perceived them sooner, must have given him the clue to thequeer scene that had been played under his eyes. Beyond the hedge otherfigures were moving. Three at that moment came crowding into thegap--a saucy-faced girl with a tip-tilted nose, whom he supposed to beColumbine, the soubrette; a lean, active youngster, who must be thelackey Harlequin; and another rather loutish youth who might be a zanyor an apothecary.
All this he took in at a comprehensive glance that consumed no moretime than it had taken him to say good-morning. To that good-morningPantaloon replied in a bellow:
"What the devil are you doing up there?"
"Precisely the same thing that you are doing down there," was theanswer. "I am trespassing."
"Eh?" said Pantaloon, and looked at his companions, some of theassurance beaten out of his big red face. Although the thing was onethat they did habitually, to hear it called by its proper name wasdisconcerting.
"Whose land is this?" he asked, with diminishing assurance.
Andre-Louis answered, whilst drawing on his stockings. "I believe it tobe the property of the Marquis de La Tour d'Azyr."
"That's a high-sounding name. Is the gentleman severe?"
"The gentleman," said Andre-Louis, "is the devil; or rather, I shouldprefer to say upon reflection, that the devil is a gentleman bycomparison."
"And yet," interposed the villainous-
looking fellow who playedScaramouche, "by your own confessing you don't hesitate, yourself, totrespass upon his property."
"Ah, but then, you see, I am a lawyer. And lawyers are notoriouslyunable to observe the law, just as actors are notoriously unable to act.Moreover, sir, Nature imposes her limits upon us, and Nature conquersrespect for law as she conquers all else. Nature conquered me last nightwhen I had got as far as this. And so I slept here without regard forthe very high and puissant Marquis de La Tour d'Azyr. At the same time,M. Scaramouche, you'll observe that I did not flaunt my trespass quiteas openly as you and your companions."
Having donned his boots, Andre-Louis came nimbly to the ground in hisshirt-sleeves, his riding-coat over his arm. As he stood there to donit, the little cunning eyes of the heavy father conned him in detail.Observing that his clothes, if plain, were of a good fashion, that hisshirt was of fine cambric, and that he expressed himself like a manof culture, such as he claimed to be, M. Pantaloon was disposed to becivil.
"I am very grateful to you for the warning, sir..." he was beginning.
"Act upon it, my friend. The gardes-champetres of M. d'Azyr have ordersto fire on trespassers. Imitate me, and decamp."
They followed him upon the instant through that gap in the hedge to theencampment on the common. There Andre-Louis took his leave of them.But as he was turning away he perceived a young man of the companyperforming his morning toilet at a bucket placed upon one of the woodensteps at the tail of the house on wheels. A moment he hesitated, then heturned frankly to M. Pantaloon, who was still at his elbow.
"If it were not unconscionable to encroach so far upon your hospitality,monsieur," said he, "I would beg leave to imitate that very excellentyoung gentleman before I leave you."
"But, my dear sir!" Good-nature oozed out of every pore of the fatbody of the master player. "It is nothing at all. But, by all means.Rhodomont will provide what you require. He is the dandy of the companyin real life, though a fire-eater on the stage. Hi, Rhodomont!"
The young ablutionist straightened his long body from the right angle inwhich it had been bent over the bucket, and looked out through a foamof soapsuds. Pantaloon issued an order, and Rhodomont, who was indeed asgentle and amiable off the stage as he was formidable and terrible uponit, made the stranger free of the bucket in the friendliest manner.
So Andre-Louis once more removed his neckcloth and his coat, and rolledup the sleeves of his fine shirt, whilst Rhodomont procured him soap,a towel, and presently a broken comb, and even a greasy hair-ribbon,in case the gentleman should have lost his own. This last Andre-Louisdeclined, but the comb he gratefully accepted, and having presentlywashed himself clean, stood, with the towel flung over his leftshoulder, restoring order to his dishevelled locks before a broken pieceof mirror affixed to the door of the travelling house.
He was standing thus, the gentle Rhodomont babbled aimlessly at hisside, when his ears caught the sound of hooves. He looked over hisshoulder carelessly, and then stood frozen, with uplifted comb andloosened mouth. Away across the common, on the road that bordered it, hebeheld a party of seven horsemen in the blue coats with red facings ofthe marechaussee.
Not for a moment did he doubt what was the quarry of this prowlinggendarmerie. It was as if the chill shadow of the gallows had fallensuddenly upon him.
And then the troop halted, abreast with them, and the sergeant leadingit sent his bawling voice across the common.
"Hi, there! Hi!" His tone rang with menace.
Every member of the company--and there were some twelve in all--stood atgaze. Pantaloon advanced a step or two, stalking, his head thrown back,his manner that of a King's Lieutenant.
"Now, what the devil's this?" quoth he, but whether of Fate or Heaven orthe sergeant, was not clear.
There was a brief colloquy among the horsemen, then they came trottingacross the common straight towards the players' encampment.
Andre-Louis had remained standing at the tail of the travellinghouse. He was still passing the comb through his straggling hair,but mechanically and unconsciously. His mind was all intent upon theadvancing troop, his wits alert and gathered together for a leap inwhatever direction should be indicated.
Still in the distance, but evidently impatient, the sergeant bawled aquestion.
"Who gave you leave to encamp here?"
It was a question that reassured Andre-Louis not at all. He was notdeceived by it into supposing or even hoping that the business of thesemen was merely to round up vagrants and trespassers. That was no part oftheir real duty; it was something done in passing--done, perhaps, in thehope of levying a tax of their own. It was very long odds that theywere from Rennes, and that their real business was the hunting down ofa young lawyer charged with sedition. Meanwhile Pantaloon was shoutingback.
"Who gave us leave, do you say? What leave? This is communal land, freeto all."
The sergeant laughed unpleasantly, and came on, his troop following.
"There is," said a voice at Pantaloon's elbow, "no such thing ascommunal land in the proper sense in all M. de La Tour d'Azyr's vastdomain. This is a terre censive, and his bailiffs collect his dues fromall who send their beasts to graze here."
Pantaloon turned to behold at his side Andre-Louis in his shirt-sleeves,and without a neckcloth, the towel still trailing over his leftshoulder, a comb in his hand, his hair half dressed.
"God of God!" swore Pantaloon. "But it is an ogre, this Marquis de LaTour d'Azyr!"
"I have told you already what I think of him," said Andre-Louis. "As forthese fellows you had better let me deal with them. I have experienceof their kind." And without waiting for Pantaloon's consent, Andre-Louisstepped forward to meet the advancing men of the marechaussee. He hadrealized that here boldness alone could save him.
When a moment later the sergeant pulled up his horse alongside of thishalf-dressed young man, Andre-Louis combed his hair what time he lookedup with a half smile, intended to be friendly, ingenuous, and disarming.
In spite of it the sergeant hailed him gruffly: "Are you the leader ofthis troop of vagabonds?"
"Yes... that is to say, my father, there, is really the leader." And hejerked a thumb in the direction of M. Pantaloon, who stood at gaze outof earshot in the background. "What is your pleasure, captain?"
"My pleasure is to tell you that you are very likely to be gaoled forthis, all the pack of you." His voice was loud and bullying. It carriedacross the common to the ears of every member of the company, andbrought them all to stricken attention where they stood. The lot ofstrolling players was hard enough without the addition of gaolings.
"But how so, my captain? This is communal land free to all."
"It is nothing of the kind."
"Where are the fences?" quoth Andre-Louis, waving the hand that held thecomb, as if to indicate the openness of the place.
"Fences!" snorted the sergeant. "What have fences to do with the matter?This is terre censive. There is no grazing here save by payment of duesto the Marquis de La Tour d'Azyr."
"But we are not grazing," quoth the innocent Andre-Louis.
"To the devil with you, zany! You are not grazing! But your beasts aregrazing!"
"They eat so little," Andre-Louis apologized, and again essayed hisingratiating smile.
The sergeant grew more terrible than ever. "That is not the point. Thepoint is that you are committing what amounts to a theft, and there'sthe gaol for thieves."
"Technically, I suppose you are right," sighed Andre-Louis, and fell tocombing his hair again, still looking up into the sergeant's face. "Butwe have sinned in ignorance. We are grateful to you for the warning."He passed the comb into his left hand, and with his right fumbled inhis breeches' pocket, whence there came a faint jingle of coins. "We aredesolated to have brought you out of your way. Perhaps for their troubleyour men would honour us by stopping at the next inn to drink the healthof... of this M. de La Tour d' Azyr, or any other health that they thinkproper."
Some of the clouds lifted from the
sergeant's brow. But not yet all.
"Well, well," said he, gruffly. "But you must decamp, you understand."He leaned from the saddle to bring his recipient hand to a convenientdistance. Andre-Louis placed in it a three-livre piece.
"In half an hour," said Andre-Louis.
"Why in half an hour? Why not at once?"
"Oh, but time to break our fast."
They looked at each other. The sergeant next considered the broad pieceof silver in his palm. Then at last his features relaxed from theirsternness.
"After all," said he, "it is none of our business to play the tipstavesfor M. de La Tour d'Azyr. We are of the marechaussee from Rennes."Andre-Louis' eyelids played him false by flickering. "But if you linger,look out for the gardes-champetres of the Marquis. You'll find them notat all accommodating. Well, well--a good appetite to you, monsieur," saidhe, in valediction.
"A pleasant ride, my captain," answered Andre-Louis.
The sergeant wheeled his horse about, his troop wheeled with him. Theywere starting off, when he reined up again.
"You, monsieur!" he called over his shoulder. In a bound Andre-Louis wasbeside his stirrup. "We are in quest of a scoundrel named Andre-LouisMoreau, from Gavrillac, a fugitive from justice wanted for the gallowson a matter of sedition. You've seen nothing, I suppose, of a man whosemovements seemed to you suspicious?"
"Indeed, we have," said Andre-Louis, very boldly, his face eager withconsciousness of the ability to oblige.
"You have?" cried the sergeant, in a ringing voice. "Where? When?"
"Yesterday evening in the neighbourhood of Guignen..."
"Yes, yes," the sergeant felt himself hot upon the trail.
"There was a fellow who seemed very fearful of being recognized ... aman of fifty or thereabouts..."
"Fifty!" cried the sergeant, and his face fell. "Bah! This man of oursis no older than yourself, a thin wisp of a fellow of about your ownheight and of black hair, just like your own, by the description. Keep alookout on your travels, master player. The King's Lieutenant in Renneshas sent us word this morning that he will pay ten louis to any onegiving information that will lead to this scoundrel's arrest. So there'sten louis to be earned by keeping your eyes open, and sending word tothe nearest justices. It would be a fine windfall for you, that."
"A fine windfall, indeed, captain," answered Andre-Louis, laughing.
But the sergeant had touched his horse with the spur, and was alreadytrotting off in the wake of his men. Andre-Louis continued to laugh,quite silently, as he sometimes did when the humour of a jest waspeculiarly keen.
Then he turned slowly about, and came back towards Pantaloon and therest of the company, who were now all grouped together, at gaze.
Pantaloon advanced to meet him with both hands out-held. For a momentAndre-Louis thought he was about to be embraced.
"We hail you our saviour!" the big man declaimed. "Already the shadowof the gaol was creeping over us, chilling us to the very marrow. Forthough we be poor, yet are we all honest folk and not one of us has eversuffered the indignity of prison. Nor is there one of us would surviveit. But for you, my friend, it might have happened. What magic did youwork?"
"The magic that is to be worked in France with a King's portrait. TheFrench are a very loyal nation, as you will have observed. They lovetheir King--and his portrait even better than himself, especially when itis wrought in gold. But even in silver it is respected. The sergeantwas so overcome by the sight of that noble visage--on a three-livrepiece--that his anger vanished, and he has gone his ways leaving us todepart in peace."
"Ah, true! He said we must decamp. About it, my lads! Come, come..."
"But not until after breakfast," said Andre-Louis. "A half-hour forbreakfast was conceded us by that loyal fellow, so deeply was hetouched. True, he spoke of possible gardes-champetres. But he knows aswell as I do that they are not seriously to be feared, and that ifthey came, again the King's portrait--wrought in copper this time--wouldproduce the same melting effect upon them. So, my dear M. Pantaloon,break your fast at your ease. I can smell your cooking from here,and from the smell I argue that there is no need to wish you a goodappetite."
"My friend, my saviour!" Pantaloon flung a great arm about the youngman's shoulders. "You shall stay to breakfast with us."
"I confess to a hope that you would ask me," said Andre-Louis.
Scaramouche: A Romance of the French Revolution Page 10