When the captain had dropped back close to the carriage, the dandy seemed to fathom his design, and favored it by checking his horse.
Merle, who had flung him a sardonic glance, encountered one of those impenetrable faces, trained by the vicissitudes of the Revolution to hide all, even the most insignificant, emotion.The moment the curved end of the old triangular hat and the captain's epaulets were seen by the occupants of the carriage, a voice of angelic sweetness said:
"Monsieur l'officier, will you have the kindness to tell us at what part of the road we now are?"There is some inexpressible charm in the question of an unknown traveller, if a woman,--a world of adventure is in every word; but if the woman asks for assistance or information, proving her weakness or ignorance of certain things, every man is inclined to construct some impossible tale which shall lead to his happiness.The words, "Monsieur l'officier," and the polite tone of the question stirred the captain's heart in a manner hitherto unknown to him.He tried to examine the lady, but was cruelly disappointed, for a jealous veil concealed her features; he could barely see her eyes, which shone through the gauze like onyx gleaming in the sunshine.
"You are now three miles from Alencon, madame," he replied.
"Alencon! already!" and the lady threw herself, or, rather, she gently leaned back in the carriage, and said no more.
"Alencon?" said the other woman, apparently waking up; "then you'll see it again."She caught sight of the captain and was silent.Merle, disappointed in his hope of seeing the face of the beautiful incognita, began to examine that of her companion.She was a girl about twenty-six years of age, fair, with a pretty figure and the sort of complexion, fresh and white and well-fed, which characterizes the women of Valognes, Bayeux, and the environs of Alencon.Her blue eyes showed no great intelligence, but a certain firmness mingled with tender feeling.She wore a gown of some common woollen stuff.The fashion of her hair, done up closely under a Norman cap, without any pretension, gave a charming simplicity to her face.Her attitude, without, of course, having any of the conventional nobility of society, was not without the natural dignity of a modest young girl, who can look back upon her past life without a single cause for repentance.Merle knew her at a glance for one of those wild flowers which are sometimes taken from their native fields to Parisian hot-houses, where so many blasting rays are concentrated, without ever losing the purity of their color or their rustic simplicity.The naive attitude of the girl and her modest glance showed Merle very plainly that she did not wish a listener.In fact, no sooner had he withdrawn than the two women began a conversation in so low a tone that only a murmur of it reached his ear.
"You came away in such a hurry," said the country-girl, "that you hardly took time to dress.A pretty-looking sight you are now! If we are going beyond Alencon, you must really make your toilet.""Oh! oh! Francine!" cried the lady.
"What is it?"
"This is the third time you have tried to make me tell you the reasons for this journey and where we are going.""Have I said one single word which deserves that reproach?""Oh, I've noticed your manoeuvring.Simple and truthful as you are, you have learned a little cunning from me.You are beginning to hold questioning in horror; and right enough, too, for of all the known ways of getting at a secret, questions are, to my mind, the silliest.""Well," said Francine, "since nothing escapes you, you must admit, Marie, that your conduct would excite the curiosity of a saint.
Yesterday without a penny, to-day your hands are full of gold; at Mortagne they give you the mail-coach which was pillaged and the driver killed, with government troops to protect you, and you are followed by a man whom I regard as your evil genius.""Who? Corentin?" said the young lady, accenting the words by two inflections of her voice expressive of contempt, a sentiment which appeared in the gesture with which she waved her hand towards the rider."Listen, Francine," she said."Do you remember Patriot, the monkey I taught to imitate Danton?""Yes, mademoiselle."
"Well, were you afraid of him?"
"He was chained."
"And Corentin is muzzled, my dear."
"We used to play with Patriot by the hour," said Francine,--"I know that; but he always ended by serving us some bad trick." So saying, Francine threw herself hastily back close to her mistress, whose hands she caught and kissed in a coaxing way; saying in a tone of deep affection: "You know what I mean, Marie, but you will not answer me.
