“Such an aristo,” said Rosanne with a little choke, and just then Madame Saint Frère drew her close to her other side, and, putting an arm around each girl, she said: “Rosanne will see her mother one day. When last we heard from her she was safe in the hospital with your father. She begged us to see you safely out of the country and wrote that she and your father would join us when they could.” “Dian will care for them both, and will see that they come to us,” answered Marie Josephine, and her mother looked at the shepherd, who sat beside Champar, with a world of confidence and gratitude in her eyes. The lights of Calais glowed faintly through a sea mist. Champar drove very slowly. He knew the way, but the mist was thick and seemed to frighten the horses. They were near the gates that led to his uncle’s barn. It was almost time for them to alight and to walk through the field. A voice reached them suddenly, a breathless, hoarse voice which seemed to come out of the very heart of the grey night. “Champar, quick! Listen! There isn’t a moment to lose. We’re discovered, suspected! It was that fool of a Bertran. He met a citizen who discovered he was disguised. He was followed. Then the man ran toward the town. They’ve all left the barn and gone to the willow wood. Grubb’s anchored near the shore there. Hurry! The mist will hide the cart. That’s it, jump. I’ll catch you, Little Mademoiselle. This way. Don’t let the dog bark. Yes, this way, this way——” They were off through the mist, Grigge leading. The ground was soggy, and once Rosanne fell, but Dian caught her up and carried her. They did not speak at all, and through the silence Dian thought he heard the sound of horses’ hoofs on the highroad. They were making slow progress. Once Flambeau barked. “Take care, maman, see, this way. I’ll guide you.” Lisle took his mother’s arm, as he whispered this. He held fast to Marie Josephine’s arm with his other hand, and every time she tried to get away from him, he whispered authoritatively, “You are to stay right here beside me!” His desire to protect his family was so great that it made him fierce. When Marie Josephine fell against a boulder, he caught her up and carried her toward a faint, flickering white spot, which was the light at the bow of Anastasius Grubb’s rowboat. Grubb’s deep voice boomed softly through the still air. “They’re coming. One of my men from the schooner has been on the ground, listening. It means hurry. He’s heard horses’ hoofs. Here you, boy, I’ll take the little girl. Humphrey, you—Good! That’s it. You help the woman, and you, shepherd, take the boy Grigge and get away as quick as you can, or your lives will not be worth a ha’penny.”