There was no sign of fear on his face, merely annoyance; and I saw that his mind worked but heavily.
“Come in!” he said, leading the way into a wide room looking out upon the Kenneticook tide. “I won’t be driven by those curs. They dare not touch me. At the worst, with the help of the servants we can fight them off. Sit down, monsieur.”
And he proceeded calmly to pull on his boots.
I had followed him inside, wild at his obstinacy.
“I tell you,” said I, “they want your scalp. The servants are traitors and have stolen away while you slept. We are alone. Come, man, come! Would you have _my_ throat cut, too?” And I shook him by the shoulder.
“Why have _you_ come?” he asked, unmoved, staring at me.
“Oh!” said he, eying me with a slow hostility.
“You fool!” I exclaimed. “They have burned De Lamourie’s. I swore to Yvonne de Lamourie that I would save you or die with you. If you think she loves you, stir yourself. I cannot carry you. Look at that!”
I pointed to the window. At Yvonne’s name he had risen to his feet. He looked out. A group of canoes was turning in to shore, not two furlongs distant.
“Where is she?” he inquired, alert at last.
“Safe,” said I curtly, “at Father Fafard’s.”
Still he wavered, brave, but undecided. I think he wondered why I was her chosen messenger.
“She is in a frenzy at your peril,” I said, though the words stuck in my throat. That moved him. His face lighted with boyish pleasure.
“Come!” he cried, as if he had been urging me all the time. “We’ll slip out at the back, and keep the buildings between us and the river till we reach the woods.”
“No,” said he, “but this will do,” and he picked up a heavy oak stick from behind the door of the room.
Great as was the haste, I told him to lock the main door. Then as we slipped out at the back we locked the kitchen door behind us. I knew this would delay the chase; whereas if they found the doors open they would realize at once the escape of their intended victim and rush in pursuit, leaving the little matter of the fire to be seen to afterwards.
From the back door we darted to the garden, a thicket of pole beans and hops and hollyhocks. From the furthest skirt of these shelters we ran along a ditch that fenced a field of growing buckwheat, not yet high enough to give covert; but I think we kept well in shadow of the house all the way to the woods. If afterwards our enemies tracked us with what seemed a quite unnecessary promptitude and ease, it must be remembered that our trail was not obscure.