“When you are gone,” the girl continued, still addressing Barebone, “Marie and I can keep them out at least an hour--probably more. We may be able to keep them outside the walls all night, and when at last they come in it will take them hours to satisfy themselves that you are not concealed within the enceinte.” She was quite cool, and even smiled at him with a white face. “You are always right, Mademoiselle, and have a clear head,” said Barebone. “But no heart?” she answered in an undertone, under cover of her father's endless talk to Colville and with a glance which Barebone could not understand. In a few minutes Dormer Colville pronounced himself ready to go, and refused to waste further precious minutes in response to Monsieur de Gemosac's offers of hospitality. No dinner had been prepared, for Marie had sterner business in hand and could be heard beneath the windows urging her husband to display a courage superior to that of a rabbit. Juliette hurried to the kitchen and there prepared a parcel of cold meat and bread for the fugitives to eat as they fled. “We might remain hidden in a remote cottage,” Barebone had suggested to Colville, “awaiting the development of events, but our best chance is 'The Last Hope.' She is at Bordeaux, and must be nearly ready for sea.” So it was hurriedly arranged that they should make their way on foot to a cottage on the marsh while Jean was despatched to Bordeaux with a letter for Captain Clubbe. “It is a pity,” said Marie, when informed of this plan, “that it is not I who wear the breeches. But I will make it clear to Jean that if he fails to carry out his task he need not show his face at the gate again.” The Marquis ran hither and thither, making a hundred suggestions, which were accepted in the soothing manner adopted toward children. He assured Juliette that their absence would be of short duration; that there was indeed no danger, but that he was acceding to the urgent persuasions of Barebone and Colville, who were perhaps unnecessarily alarmed--who did not understand how affairs were conducted in France. He felt assured that law and order must prevail. “But if they have put Albert de Chantonnay in prison, why should you be safe?” asked Juliette. To which the Marquis replied with a meaning cackle that she had a kind heart, and that it was only natural that it should be occupied at that moment with thoughts of that excellent young man who, in his turn, was doubtless thinking of her in his cell at La Rochelle. Which playful allusion to Albert de Chantonnay's pretensions was received by their object with a calm indifference. “When Jean returns,” she said, practically, “I will send him to you at the Bremonts' cottage with food and clothing. But you must not attempt to communicate with us. You would only betray your whereabouts and do no good to us. We shall be quite safe in the chateau. Marie and I and Madame Maugiron are not afraid.”