Lord Tonys Wife | Page 6

Adet. Not one word was spoken, but with an instinctive gesture every man grasped his weapon more firmly and then turned to Pierre, thus electing him their spokesman.
Pierre too had listened in silence to all that his father said, striving to hide the burning anxiety which was gnawing at his heart, lest his comrades allowed themselves to be persuaded by the old man's counsels and their ardour be cooled by the wise dictates of prudence. But when Jean Adet had finished speaking and Pierre saw each man thus grasping his weapon all the more firmly and in silence, a cry of triumph escaped his lips.
'It is all in vain, father,' he cried, 'our minds are made up. A host of angels from heaven would not bar our way now to victory and to vengeance.'
'Pierre!' admonished the old man.
'It is too late, my father,' said Pierre firmly, 'en avant, lads!'
'Yes! en avant! en avant!' assented some, 'we have wasted too much time as it is.'
'But, unfortunate lads,' admonished the old man, 'what are you going to do?-- a handful of you-- where are you going?'
'We go straight to the cross-roads, now, father,' said Pierre firmly. 'The firing of your ricks --for which I humbly crave your pardon-- is the preconcerted signal which will bring the lads from all the neighbouring villages -- from Goulaine and les Sorinières and Doulon and Tourne-Bride -- to our meeting place. Never you fear! There will be more than four hundred of us and a company of paid soldiers is not like to frighten us. Eh, lads?'
'No! no! en avant!' they shouted and murmured impatiently, 'there has been too much talking already and we have wasted precious time.'
'Pierre!' entreated the miller.
But no one listened to the old man now. A general movement down the hillock had already begun and Pierre turning his back on his father had pushed his way to the front of the crowd and was now leading the way down the slope. Up on the summit the fire was already burning low: only from time to time an imprisoned tongue of flame would dart out of the dying embers and leap fitfully up into the night. A dull red glow illumined the small farmery and the mill and the slowly moving mass of men along the narrow road, whilst clouds of black, dense smoke were tossed about by the gale. Pierre walked with head erect. He ceased to think of his father and he never looked back to see if the others followed him. He knew that they did: like the straw-ricks a while ago, they had become the prey of a consuming fire: the fire of their own passion which had caught them and held them and would not leave them now until their ardour was consumed in victory or defeat.
IV
M. le duc de Kernogan had just finished dinner when Jacques Labrunière his head-bailiff came to him with the news that a rabble crowd composed of the peasantry of Goulaine and Vertou and the neighbouring villages had assembled at the cross-roads, there held revolutionary speeches, and was even now marching toward the castle still shouting and singing and brandishing of miscellaneous collection of weapons chiefly consisting the scythes and axes.
'The guard is under arms, I imagine,' was M. le duc's comment on this not altogether unforeseen piece of news.
'Everything is in perfect order,' replied the head-bailiff coolly, 'for the defence of M. le duc and his property --and of Mademoiselle.'
M. le duc who had been lounging in one of the big armchairs in the stately hall of Kernogan jumped to his feet at these words: his cheeks suddenly pallid, and a look of deadly fear in his eyes.
'Mademoiselle,' he said hurriedly, 'by G-d, Labrunière, I had forgotten -- momentarily--'
'M. le duc?' stammered the bailiff in anxious inquiry.
'Mademoiselle de Kernogan is on her way home-- even now-- she spent the day with Mme. la Marquise d'Herbignac-- she was to return at about eight o'clock.... If those devils meet her carriage on the road...'
'There is no cause for anxiety, M. le duc,' broke in Labrunière hurriedly. 'I will see that half a dozen men get to horse at once and go and meet Mademoiselle adn escort her home...'
'Yes,.. yes... Labrunière,' murmured the duc, who seemed very much overcome with terror now that his daughter's safety was in jeopardy, 'see to it at once. Quick! quick! I shall wax crazy with anxiety.'
While Labrunière ran to make the necessary arrangements for an efficient escort for Mademoiselle de Kernogan and gave the sergeant in charge of the posse the necessary directions, M. le duc remained motionless, huddled up in the capacious armchair, his head buried in his hand, shivering in front of the huge fire which burned in the monumental hearth, himself the prey of nameless, overwhelming