Round Jean Paulet's door one bright afternoon cl.u.s.tered a troop of the republican soldiers, eyeing indolently the perspiring farmer as he ran to and fro with water for their horses, and sweetening his labours with sc.r.a.ps of the latest news.

"He, Paulet," suddenly asked the corporal, "hast heard anything of the rebel General Marigny?"

"No!" replied the farmer hurriedly. "What should I hear? Is he still alive?"

"Yes, curse him! So, too, is that wretched girl, daughter of a vile aristocrat, that he saved from starvation. Bah! as if starving was not too good a death for her! But there is a price set on Marigny, and a reward would be given for the child too. So some one will soon betray them, and then--why, we will see if they had not rather have starved!"

he said ferociously.

"I--I have heard this Marigny is a brave man," observed the farmer timidly.

"That is why we want the child! There is nothing would humble him save perchance to find he could not save the child he loves from torture. Ha!

ha! we shall have a merry time then!"

"Doubtless this Marigny is no friend to the republic," said the farmer hesitatingly.

The corporal laughed noisily as he gathered up his horse's reins. "Head and front of this insurrection--an accursed rebel! But he shall pay for it, he shall pay; and so will all those fools who have helped him!"

And the little band of soldiers rode away, shouting and jesting, leaving Jean Paulet with a heart full of fear.

With trembling fingers he pushed open the house door, and, stepping into the kitchen, found Rosette crouched beneath the open window. "Heard you what they said--that they are seeking for you?" he gasped.

Rosette nodded. "They have done that this long time," she observed coolly.

[Sidenote: "They must find You!"]

"But--but--some time they must find you!" he stammered.

Rosette laughed. "Perhaps--if I become as stupid a coward as Jean Paulet."

The farmer frowned. "I am no coward--I am an experienced man. And I tell you--I, with the weight of forty years behind me--that they will find you some time."

"And I tell you--I," mimicked Rosette saucily, "with the weight of my twelve years behind me--that I have lived through so many perils, I should be able to live through another!"

"'Tis just that!" said the farmer angrily. "You have no prudence; you take too many risks; you expose yourself to fearful dangers." He shuddered.

"What you fear is that I shall expose you," returned Rosette cheerfully.

"He, well! a man can but die once, Farmer Paulet."

"That is just it!" exclaimed the farmer vivaciously. "If I had six lives I should not mind dying five times; but having only the one, I cannot afford to lose it! And, besides, I have my wife to think of."

Rosette meditated a moment. "Better late than never, Farmer Paulet. I have heard tell you never thought of that before." The sharp little face softened. "She is a good woman, your wife!"

"True, true! She is a good woman, and you would not care for her to be widowed. Consider if it would not be better if I placed you in safety elsewhere."

"Jean Paulet! Jean Paulet!" mocked Rosette; "I doubt if I should do your wife a kindness if I saved your skin."

Jean Paulet wagged a forefinger at her angrily. "You will come to a bad end with a tongue like that! If it were not for the respect I owe to Monsieur de Marigny----"

"Marigny's pistol!" interrupted Rosette.

"Ah, bah! What is to prevent my abandoning you?" asked the farmer furiously.

Rosette swung her bare legs thoughtfully. "Papa Marigny is a man of his word--and you lack five of your half-dozen lives, Jean Paulet."

"See you it is dangerous!" returned her protector desperately. "My wife she is not here to advise me; she is in the fields----"

"I have noticed she works hard," murmured Rosette.

[Sidenote: To the Uplands!]

"And I will not keep you here. But for the respect I owe Monsieur de Marigny, I am willing to sacrifice something. I have a dozen of sheep in the field down there--ah! la, la! they represent a lifetime's savings, but I will sacrifice them for my safety--no, no; for Monsieur de Marigny, I mean!" he wailed. "You shall drive them to the uplands and stay there out of danger. I do not think you will meet with soldiers; but if you do, at the worst they will only take a sheep--ah! my sheep!"

he broke off distressfully. "Now do not argue. Get you gone before my wife returns. See, I will put a little food in this handkerchief. There, you may tell Monsieur de Marigny I have been loyal to him. Go, go! and, above all, remember never to come near me again, or say those sheep are mine. You will be safe, quite safe."

Rosette laughed. "You have a kind heart, Jean Paulet," she mocked. "But I think perhaps you are right. You are too much of a poltroon to be a safe comrade in adversity."

She sprang from her chair and ran to the doorway. Then she looked back.

"Hark you, Jean Paulet! This price upon my head--it is a fine price, he?

Well, I am little, but I have a tongue, and _I know what my papa de Marigny knows_. Ah! the fine tale to tell, if they catch us! Eh?

Farewell."

She ran lightly across the yard, pausing a moment when a yellow mongrel dog leaped up and licked her chin. "He, Gegi, you love me better than your master does!" she said, stooping to pat his rough coat. "And you do not love your master any better than I do, eh? Why, then you had better keep sheep too! There is a brave idea. Come, Gegi, come!" And together they ran off through the sunshine.

It was very cold that autumn up on the higher lands, very cold and very lonely.

Also several days had pa.s.sed since Rosette had ventured down to the nearest friendly farm to seek for food, and her little store of provisions was nearly finished.

"You and I must eat, Gegi. Stay with the sheep, little one, while I go and see if I can reach some house in safety." And, the yellow mongrel offering no objection, Rosette started.

She was not the only person in La Vendee who lacked food. Thousands of loyal peasants starved, and the republican soldiers themselves were not too plentifully supplied. Certainly they grumbled bitterly sometimes, as did that detachment of them who sheltered themselves from the keen wind under the thick hedge that divided the rough road leading to La Plastiere from the fields.

"Bah! we live like pigs in these days!" growled one of the men.

"It is nothing," said another. "Think what we shall get at La Plastiere!

The village has a few fat farmers, who have escaped pillaging so far by the love they bore, as they said, to the good republic. But that is ended: once we have caught this rascal Marigny in their midst, we can swear they are not good republicans."

"But," objected the first speaker, "they may say they knew nothing of this Marigny hiding in the chateau!"

"They may say so--but we need not believe them!" returned his companion.

"Ah, bah! I would believe or not believe anything, so long as it brought us a good meal! How long before we reach this village, comrade?"

"Till nightfall. We would not have Marigny watch our coming. This time we will make sure of the scoundrel."

Rosette, standing hidden behind the hedge, clenched her hands tightly at the word. She would have given much to have flung it back at the man, but prudence suggested it would be better to be discreet and help Marigny. She turned and ran along under the hedge, and away back to where she had left her little flock, her bare feet falling noiselessly on the damp ground.