The Peasant and the Prince | Page 5

and galloped after his master.
Charles now turned away, and with desperate tugs pulled up the stakes
he had driven with so much satisfaction, and threw them into the
thicket. He filled the holes, scratched up with brambles the ground he
and the boys had trodden, and strewed it over with green twigs, so that
no token of his late labour was left to attract the eye of the passer-by.
The boys looked ruefully on his proceedings; and Marie appeared to
forget that her mother wanted her, as she gazed. She soon, however,
observed that the lane was empty now, and they must be gone. Sending

her brothers on before, she stayed one moment to entreat Charles to be
patient under the separation and delay of a few days, and proposed to
him that he should be found, that day week, at a certain cave in the
chalk-hill, two miles off, where she would send to let him know when
the danger was over, and he might appear again.
Charles made no promises,--spoke no word of any kind. He kissed her
fervently, and would scarcely let her go: and when she looked back
from the verge of the wood, she saw him leaning his forehead against a
tree. She feared he was weeping very bitterly.

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER TWO.
COMPANY TO SUPPER.
Marie's mother received her with a look almost of reproach; so
overpowered was the poor woman with the business of providing
lodging, food, fire, and washing for three strangers, when she had no
money, and few other means of making them comfortable. The men
seemed to behave well. One of them was absent, helping his host to
bring in his share of the forage, to be provided by the village, for the
cavalry now awaiting the arrival of the Dauphiness. The other two
guests were sitting before the door, one smoking, and the other every
now and then looking in, and addressing some civil word to the hostess,
who was plucking her fowls with a heavy heart.
"I thought you were lost," said she to her children as they entered.
"Robin, fill the boiler; and Marc, blow the fire under it. Your sister and
I shall have to be at the wash-tub and ironing-board all night."
The soldiers were very sorry this trouble should be caused by them.
Was there no one in the village who could relieve them of this part of
their work? That the linen should be ready by the morning was indeed
indispensable, as the Dauphiness might arrive at any hour of the next
day: but to stand at the wash-tub at midnight!--it was terrible to think of.
However terrible, there was no help for it. Every housewife in Saint

Menehould had soldiers quartered upon her house, and her hands
therefore full, instead of being able to wash for another. Besides this,
the Randolphes could not pay for such service. Moreover, the family
had to give up their beds (which were but poor cribs in the wall) to the
strangers; and as they had to be up, they had better be employed than
idle.
As soon as Robin and Marc had done all they could for their sister in
the washing-shed, they hastened to the soldiers, and made the
acquaintance which boys like to make with strangers who have
travelled and seen wonderful things. First they found out that one
soldier was called Jerome, and that the other, who never ceased
smoking, pretended to have so many names, that they saw he either
meant to make a joke of them, or did not choose to say what his real
name was. Then the boys told their own names and ages, and those of
all the family: but they did not mention Charles, having learned that
much prudence from the distress they saw in the faces of their sister
and mother. Then it appeared that the soldiers could tell a great deal
about the Dauphiness.
"Will she be here to-morrow?" asked Marc.
"That depends upon where she is to-night," replied Jerome. "The last I
heard of her was at Strasburg. You know she is a German, and comes
from Germany."
The boys had never heard of Germany, near as they were to it, and did
not know where Strasburg was. So they asked about something that
they could understand; what the great lady's name was, and how old
she looked.
"Her name is Marie-Antoinette-Joseph-Jeanne de Lorraine: and her age
is--Let us see. Comrade, how old is she, exactly? I heard tell, I think,
that she is fifteen."
"Oh, that can't be!" exclaimed the boys. "Married at fifteen! And our
Marie is--"

Here Robin remembered that he must not allude to Charles, and
stopped.
"She was born on the day of the great earthquake at Lisbon--"
"Is that