Lord Tonys Wife | Page 8

Herbignac toward those
same cross-roads where a couple of hundred hot-headed peasant lads
were planning as much mischief as their uniimaginative minds could
conceive.
The fury of the gale had in no way abated, and now a heavy rain was
falling -- a drenching, sopping rain which in the space of half an hour
had added five centimetres to the depth of hte mud on the roads, and
had in that same space of time considerably damped the enthusiasm of
some of the poor lads. Three score or so had assembled from Goulaine,
two score from les Sorinières, some three dozen from Doulon: they had
rallied to the signal in hot haste, gathered their scythes and spades, very
eager and excited, and had reached the cross-roads which were much
nearer to their respective villages than to Jean Adet's farm and the mill,
even while the old man was admonishing his son and the lads of Vertou

on the summit of the blazing hillock. Here they had spent half an hour
in cooling their heels and their tempers under the drenching rain --wet
to the skin-- fuming and fretting at the delay.
But even so- -- damped in ardour and chilled to the marrow-- they were
still a dangerous crowd and prudence ought to have dictated to
Mademoiselle de Kernogan the wiser course of ordering her coachman
Jean-Marie to head his horses back toward Herbignac, the moment that
the outrider reported that a mob, armed with scythes, spades and axes,
held the cross-roads and that it would be dangerous for the coach to
advance any further.
Already for the past few minutes the sound of loud shouting had been
heard even above the tramp of the horses and the clatter of the coach.
Jean-Marie had pulled up and sent one of the outriders on ahead to see
what was amiss: the man returned with very unpleasant tidings -- in his
opinion it certainly would be dangerous to go any further. The mob
appeared bent on mischief: he had heard threats and curses all levelled
against M. le duc de Kernogan --the conflagration up at Vertou was
evidently a signal which would bring along a crowd of malcontents
from all the neighbouring villages. He was for turning back forthwith.
But Mademoiselle put her head out of the window just then and asked
what was amiss. On hearing that Jean-Marie and the postilion and
outriders were inclined to be afraid of a mob of peasant lads who had
assembled at the cross-roads and were apparently threatening to do
mischief, she chided them for their cowardice.
'Jean-Marie,' she called scornfully to the old coachman, who had been
in her father's service for close on half a century, 'do you really mean to
tell me that you are afraid of that rabble!'
'Why no! Mademoiselle, so please you,' replied the old man, nettled in
his pride by the taunt, 'but the temper of the peasantry round here has
been ugly of late, and 'tis your safety I have got to guard.'
' 'Tis my commands you have got to obey,' retorted Mademoiselle with
a gay little laugh which mitigated the peremptoriness of her tone. 'If my
father should hear that there's trouble on the road he will die of anxiety

if I do not return: so whip up the horses Jean-Marie. No one will dare to
attack the coach.'
'But Mademoiselle --' remonstrated the old man.
'Ah çà!' she broke in more impatiently, 'am I to be openly disobeyed?
Best join that rabble, Jean-Marie, if you have no respect for my
commands.'
Thus twitted by Mademoiselle's sharp tongue Jean-Marie could not
help but obey. He tried to peer into the distance through the veil of
blinding rain which beat against his face and stung the horses to
restlessness. But the light from teh coach lanthorns prevented his
seeing clearly into the darkness beyond. Still it seemed to him that on
ahead a dense and solid mass was moving toward the coach, also that
the sound of shouting and of excited humanity was considerably nearer
than it had been before. No doubt the mob had perceived the lights of
the coach and was even now making towards it, with what intent
Jean-Marie divined all too accurately.
But he had his orders, and though he was an old and trusted servant
disobedience these days was not even to be thought of. So he did as he
was bid. He whipped up his horses, which were high-spirited and
answered to the lash with a bound and a plunge forward. Mlle. de
Kernogan leaned back on the cushions of the coach. She was satisfied
that Jean-Marie had done as he was told, and she was not in the least
afraid.
But less than five minutes later she ahd a rude awakening.