France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Juvenile fiction
"`Oh yes,' said Pierre; `I have enough to pay my journey. I mean to get
on as fast as I can till I am near Paris. Then, perhaps, it will be as
well to go on foot. No one will pay any attention to a young fellow
like me, and I daresay it is as well for me not to have much money with
me. It might be stolen. The Countess is sure to have money; there is
no fear on _that_ score!'
"Nanette hesitated.
"`I don't know,' she said; `there is no telling to what straits even she
may be brought. See here, Pierre,' she added, going to a cupboard from
which she took out a locked box; `in here are some of my savings. Take
what you can; it is my own money, and even if it were not, Albert would
be the last to grudge it in such a case,' and she forced into the boy's
hands a little packet containing a few gold coins. `See here, a moment;
I will stitch it into the lining of your coat, where no one would
suspect it.'
"Pierre did not resist.
"`It is for them,' he said simply, `and for them I thank you. At worst,
Nanette, my father and mother would repay you. Tell them you gave it to
me; it will make them less anxious about me. Try to see them soon--
before noon, will you not? And tell them you agree with me that if
anything is to be done it is best at once, and that it was best for my
father to stay at home.'
"`Yes,' said Nanette, `I will say all. I think you are right, Pierre.
Farewell, and God bless you, my friend!'
"She stood at the door, watching him along the road as far as she could
see, and then with a sigh re-entered her cottage.
"`I wish he were safe back again, and our dear ladies with him,' she
said to herself. `Though even their absence would seem nothing now,
were one sure they were in safety. I wish they were safe in some other
country, however far away, and even if we could not see them for years.
It is too dreadful to think of what may happen to them--of what may have
already happened. My sweet lady and the dear tender little Edmee! Ah!
I must not think of it, or I shall unfit myself for everything. Albert
must not tell me any more of the dreadful things he hears. Not till
_they_ are safe at least.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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