CHAPTER XVIII EQUALLY SURPRISING CONDUCT OF "MONSIEUR AUGUSTIN" (1) Five seconds, no more, did Fortuné de la Vireville allow himself wherein to reflect that he found himself, as the door was shut and the bolt slid into place, in one of the most unpleasant situations of his life; ten to formulate a plan--a very precarious and weak-kneed plan--of escape therefrom, and about a minute and a half to scramble into the rest of his clothes. He could have done this quicker but for his foot, which hampered him at every turn. Then, kneeling on the bed, he pushed the little casement wide, tore off the sheets, knotted them together, twisted them round into the semblance of a rope, made one end fast to the head of the bed, and threw the slack out of the window. But he did not climb down it. Nor did he attempt to break open the door, which he could probably have done with ease. To escape in either of those ways before the house was surrounded would necessitate running, and, unfortunately he could not run. But he trusted that the sheet hanging out of the window would convince the National Guard that he _had_ run. . . . He thrust his pistols into his belt, picked up his hunting-knife--a smile flitted across his face as he touched it--and limped across the room to his chosen refuge. If it was a refuge! For his life depended at that moment on what Mme. de Guéfontaine, the 'fisherman's widow,' had a habit of storing in the large press built into the side of the little room. If it were linen, or anything that required the presence of shelves, then--"Good-night, my friend!" said La Vireville to himself. "But no!--one enters!" he finished, when the door stood wide. There was nothing at all in the cupboard but a row of pegs, from one of which depended, oddly enough, a tricolour sash. So he went in. The place had a strange, stuffy smell. Light, but not much air, came under the flimsy double doors, and between them. "And if I am to stay here long," thought La Vireville, "a chair would be very acceptable;" for it was tiring to stand, as he was doing, practically on one leg. If he sat upon the floor he could not make much of a fight of it, supposing the necessity arose. He was beginning seriously to contemplate emerging to fetch the chair when he heard numerous and hurried steps on the steep stairway outside. "This cannot, surely, be the National Guard already," thought their quarry. "The vindictive lady has not had the time to summon them!" For he remembered noticing last night that Mme. Rozel's cottage stood at a little distance from Porhoët itself.