"Ah, Gegi!" she panted, flinging herself beside the yellow mongrel, "the soldiers are very near, and they are going to surprise my beloved papa de Marigny. What must we do, Gegi, you and I, to save him?"
Gegi rolled sharply on to his back and lay staring up at the skies as if he was considering the question. Rosette rested her chin on her drawn-up knees and thought fiercely. She knew in what direction lay the chateau of La Plastiere, and she knew that to reach it she must cross the countryside, and cross, too, in full view of the soldiers below; or else--and that was the shorter way--go along the road by which they encamped.
Rosette frowned. If they spied her skulking in the distance, they would probably conclude she carried a message that might be valuable to them and pursue her. If she walked right through them? Bah! Would they know it was Rosette--Rosette, for whose capture a fine reward would be given?
She did not look much like an aristocrat"s child, she thought, glancing at her bare brown legs and feet, and her stained, torn blue frock. Her dark, matted curls were covered with a crimson woollen cap--her every garment would have been suitable for a peasant child"s wear; and Rosette was conscious that her size was more like that of a child of seven than that of one of twelve. She had pa.s.sed unknown through many soldiers--would these have a more certain knowledge of her?
[Sidenote: "How am I to Settle it?"]
"Oh, Gegi!" she sighed; "how am I to settle it?"
Gegi wagged his tail rapidly and encouragingly, but offered no further help.
If she went across country the way was longer far, and there was a big risk. If she went near those soldiers and was known, why, risk would become a certainty. That Death would stare into her face then, none knew better than Rosette; but Death was also very near Rosette"s beloved de Marigny, the man who had cared for her and loved her with all the warmth of his big, generous heart.
"Ah! if my papa de Marigny dies, I may as well die too, Gegi," she whispered wearily. The yellow mongrel c.o.c.ked one ear with a rather doubtful expression. "Well, we must take the risk. If papa de Marigny is to live, you and I, Gegi, must take him warning!" Rosette cried, springing to her feet; and Gegi signified his entire approval in a couple of short barks. "I will take the sheep," his little mistress murmured; ""tis slower, but they will be so pleased to see them. Poor Jean Paulet!" she thought, with a faint smile.
Gegi bounded lightly through a gap in the hedge, and dashed up to the soldiers inquisitively. With an oath, one of the men hurled a stone at him, which Gegi easily dodged, and another man stretched out his hand for his musket.
"There are worse flavours than dog"s meat," he observed coolly. "Come, little beast, you shall finish your life gloriously, nourishing soldiers of the republic!" He placed his gun in position.
"He! you leave my dog alone!" called Rosette sharply, as she stepped into the roadway. "He has the right to live," she added, as she moved jauntily up to them. Her pert little face showed nothing of the anguish in her heart.
"Not if I want him for my supper," observed the soldier, grinning at his comrades, who changed their position to obtain a better view of the coming sport.
"But you do not," corrected Rosette. "If you need to eat dog, search for the dog of an accursed fugitive!"
The men laughed. "How do we know this is not one?" they asked.
"I will show you. He, Gegi!" she called, and the dog came and sat in front of her. "Listen, Gegi. Would you bark for a monarchy?" The yellow mongrel glanced round him indifferently. "Gegi!" his mistress called imperiously, "do you cheer for the glorious republic?" And for answer, Gegi flung up his head and barked.
"You see?" asked Rosette, turning to the grinning man. "He is your brother, that little dog. And you may not eat your brother, you know,"
she added gravely.
[Sidenote: "Whose Sheep are those?"]
"He, by the Ma.s.s! whose sheep are those?" cried a soldier suddenly.
"They are mine, or rather they are my master"s; I am taking them back to the farm."
"Why, then, we will spare you the trouble. I hope they, too, are not good republicans," he jested.
"I have called them after your great leaders--but they do not always answer to their names," Rosette a.s.sured him seriously.
"Then they are only worthy to be executed. Your knife, comrade," cried one of the men, jumping to his feet. "What, more of them! Six, seven, eight," he counted, as the sheep came through the gap. "Why, "twill be quite a ma.s.sacre of traitors."
"Oh, please! you cannot eat them all! Leave me some, that I may drive back with me, else my master will beat me!" implored Rosette, beginning to fear that her chances of pa.s.sing towards the far distant village were lessening.
"Your master! Who is your master?"
"He is a farmer down there," nodding vaguely as she spoke.
"Hark you! Have you by any chance seen a man bigger than the average skulking thereabouts?"
She shook her head. "There are few big men round here--none so fine as you!" she said prettily.
The man gave a proud laugh. "Ah! we of Paris are a fine race."
Rosette nodded. "My Master is a good republican. You will let me take him back the sheep," she coaxed.
"Why, those that remain," the soldier replied, with a grin. "Sho! sho!
Those that run you can follow. Ah, behold!" Rosette needed no second bidding, but started after the remnant of her little troop.
"He!" called one of the soldiers to his comrades--and the wind bore the words to Rosette--"you are fools to let that child pa.s.s! For aught we know, she may be spying for the rebels."
As the men stared after her irresolute, Rosette slackened her pace, flung up her head, and in her clear childish treble began to sing that ferocious chant, then at the height of its popularity, which is now the national hymn of France. So singing, she walked steadily down the long road, hopeful that she might yet save the man who was a father to her.
It was almost dusk outside the desolate, half-ruined chateau of La Plastiere. Within its walls the shadows of night were already thickly gathered--shadows so dark that a man might have lurked unseen in them.
Some such thought came to Rosette as she stood hesitating in the great hall. How silent the place was! The only noises came from without--the wind sobbing strangely in the garden, the ghostly rustling of the leaves, the moan of the dark, swift river. Ah! there was something moving in the great hall! What was it? A rat dashed by, close to Rosette"s feet; then the hall settled again into unbroken silence.
The child"s heart beat quickly. She hated, feared, the shadows and the quiet.
Yet she must go forward; she dare not call aloud, and she must find de Marigny, if, indeed, he was still there.
She groped her way to the broad stone stairs. How dark it was! She glanced up fearfully. Surely something up above her in the shadow on the stairway moved. She shrank back.
"Coward! little coward!" she muttered. And to scare away her fear she began to sing softly, very softly, a tender little song de Marigny himself had taught to her.
"Stay thy hand, man! It is Rosette!" cried a voice from above her, shattering the silence. And the shadow that had moved before moved again, and a man from crouching on the step rose suddenly in front of her.
"Why did you not speak? I thought we were like to be discovered, and I had nearly killed you. Curse this dark!"
"Hush!" whispered Rosette. "Hush! you are betrayed! The soldiers are coming. Oh, Papa de Marigny," she murmured, as he came down the stairway, "they are to be here at dusk. Is it too late? I tried to get here sooner, but--it was such a long road!" she ended, with a sob.
De Marigny gathered her in his arms. "And such a little traveller! Never mind, sweetheart, we will cheat them yet," he said tenderly. "Warn the others, Lacroix!"
[Sidenote: Flight]
But Lacroix had done that already. The house was full now of stealthy sounds and moving shadows descending the great staircase. De Marigny, carrying Rosette, led the way across the garden behind the house, towards the river that cut the countryside in half. The stillness of the night was broken suddenly by the neighing of a not far distant horse.
"The soldiers! the rebels, papa!" cried Rosette.
De Marigny whispered softly to one of his companions, who ran swiftly away from him, and busied himself drawing from its hiding-place a small boat. They could hear the tramp of horses now, near, very near, and yet the men seated silent in the boat held tightly to the bank.
Hark! The thud, thud of running footsteps came to Rosette, nearer, nearer, and the man for whom they waited sprang from the bank into their midst.
A moment later they were caught by the swift current and carried out into the centre of the broad river.