The Last Vendée; or, the She-Wolves of MachecoulDumas, Alexandre
History
The Last Vendée; or, the She-Wolves of Machecoul
Dumas, Alexandre
Berry, Marie-Caroline de Bourbon-Sicile, duchesse de, 1798-1870 -- Fiction; France -- History -- Louis Philippe, 1830-1848 -- Fiction
COURTIN'S DIPLOMACY.
Courtin had hardly taken a hundred steps on the
path that led to his farmhouse before he heard a rustling in the
bushes near which he passed.
"Who's there?" he said, standing in the middle of the path, and
putting himself on guard with the heavy stick he carried.
"Friend," replied a youthful voice.
And the owner of the voice came through the bushes.
"Why, it is Monsieur le baron!" cried the farmer.
"I, myself, Courtin," replied Michel.
"Where are you going at this time of night? Good God! if Madame la
baronne knew you were roaming about in the darkness, what do you
suppose she would say?" said the farmer, pretending surprise.
"That's just it, Courtin."
"Hang it! I suppose Monsieur le baron has his reasons," said the
farmer, in his jeering tone.
"Yes; and you shall hear them as soon as we get to your house."
"My house! Are you going to my house?" said Courtin, surprised.
"You don't refuse to take me in, do you?" asked Michel.
"Good heavens, no! Refuse to take you into a house which, after all,
is yours?"
"Then don't let us lose time, it is so late. You walk first, I'll
follow."
Courtin, rather uneasy at the imperative tone of his young master,
obeyed. A few steps farther on he climbed a bank, crossed an orchard,
and reached the door of his farmhouse. As soon as he entered the lower
room, which served him as kitchen and living-room, he drew a few
scattered brands together on the hearth and blew up a blaze; then he
lighted a candle of yellow wax and stuck it on the chimney-piece. By
the light of this candle he saw what he could not see by the light of
the moon,--namely, that Michel was as pale as death.
"My God! what's the matter with you, Monsieur le baron?" he exclaimed.
"Courtin," said the young man, frowning, "I heard every word of your
conversation with my mother."
"Confound it! were you listening?" said the farmer, a good deal
surprised. But, recovering instantly, he added, "Well, what of it?"
"You want your lease renewed next year?"
"I, Monsieur le baron?"
"You, Courtin; and you want it much more than you choose to own."
"Of course I shouldn't be sorry to have it renewed, Monsieur le baron;
but if there's any objection it wouldn't be the death of me."
"Courtin, I am the person who will renew your lease, because I shall
be of age by that time."
"Yes, that's so, Monsieur le baron."
"But you will understand," continued the young man, to whom the desire
of saving the Comte de Bonneville and staying near Mary gave a
firmness and resolution quite foreign to his character, "you
understand, don't you, that if you do as you said to-night,--that is,
if you denounce my friends,--I shall most certainly not renew the
lease of an informer?"
"Oh! oh!" exclaimed Courtin.
"That is certain. Once out of this farm you may say good-bye to it,
Courtin; you shall never return to it."
"But my duty to the government and Madame la baronne?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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