t caldron that was for ever stewing over the fire was at once
fished out for her, before she was allowed to explain herself; and as
she ate with the carved spoon and from the earthenware crock that had
been called Mademoiselle's ever since her baby-days, Perrine chafed
and warmed her feet, fondled her, and assured her, as if she were still
their spoiled child, that they would do all she wished.

Pierre and Tiennot, the two sons, were sent out to fodder the cattle,
and keep careful watch for any sounds of pursuers from the convent;
and Blaise, in the plenitude of his respects and deference, would have
followed them, but Eustacie desired him to remain to give her counsel.

Her first inquire was after the watch-tower. She did not care for any
discomfort if her vassals would be faithful, and hold it out for her,
till she could send for help to the allies of her husband's house, and
her eyes glanced as she spoke.

But Blaise shook his head. He had looked at the tower as Madame bade,
but it was all in ruins, crumbling away, and, moreover, M. le Chevalier
had put a forester there--a grim, bad subject, who had been in the
Italian wars, and cared neither for saint nor devil, except Chevalier
Narcisse. Indeed, even if he had not been there, the place was
untenable, it would only be getting into a trap.

'Count Hebert held it out for twelve days against the English!' said
Eustacie, proudly.

'Ah! ah! but there were none of your falconets, or what call you those
cannons then. No; if Madame would present herself as a choice morsel for
Monsieur le Chevalier to snap up, that is the place.'

Then came the other plan of getting an escort of the peasants together,
and riding with them towards the Huguenot territories around La
Rochelle, where, for her husband's sake, Eustacie could hardly fail
to obtain friends. It was the more practicable expedient, but Blaise
groaned over it, wondered how many of the farmers could be trusted,
or brought together, and finally expressed his intention of going to
consult Martin, his staunch friend, at the next farm. Meantime, Madame
had better lie down and sleep. And Madame did sleep, in Perrine's huge
box-bedstead, with a sweet, calm, childlike slumber, whilst her nurse
sat watching her with eyes full of tears of pity and distress; the poor
young thing's buoyant hopefulness and absence of all fear seemed to the
old woman especially sad, and like a sort of want of comprehension of
the full peril in