ood--Agathe here on this
side holding the vine; I, with my knife, on the other side, bending over
to lop a sprout from it; when down came two young people--lad and
lass--upon us, as fast as they could run; out of breath--agitated--and
as frightened as two wood-pigeons. The young man flew to me, and
catching hold of my arm begged me, _pour l'amour de Dieu_, to secrete
his wife somewhere--anywhere--out of the reach of the _gens-d'armes_,
who were pursuing them. I felt in ill-humor, for I had cut my finger
just then; besides, I did not relish the mention of the _gens-d'armes_,
so I replied plainly, that I would have nothing to do with persons who
were _suspects_. Why should I thrust my own neck into the trap? they had
better go about their business, and not trouble poor people. Bah! such a
speech was not like Louis Herbois! but out it came, Heaven knows how,
and no sooner had I finished than up runs the young creature, and
seizing my moustache she cries, "My brave fellow, hie away, and crop off
all this; none but _men_ have a right to it; God grant you were not born
in France; no Frenchman could give such an answer to a man imploring
protection for his wife. Look at my husband--did he ask aid for himself?
Do you think he would turn you off in this way, had you sought his
assistance to save _her_?" pointing to Agathe, who stood trembling all
the while like an aspen. "Ah! you have made a mistake, I see you repent,
be quick; what will you do with us?" And she held me tight by the
moustache until I should answer, while the husband stared upon me in a
sort of breathless agony. I took another look at the little creature,
while she kept fast hold of me, and saw that she was----_eh bien_! I see
you understand me,' said Louis, interrupting himself, as he glanced
towards his wife. 'My heart knocked loud enough, believe me, and there
the dear little thing stood, her hand, as I was telling you, clenched
fast in my moustache--ha! ha! ha!--and looking so full into my eyes,
with her own clear bright blue gazers. "_Mon Dieu--mon Dieu!_ Agathe we
must help these _pauvres enfans_." "You _are_ a Frenchman--I thought
so," cried the little one, letting go my moustache and clapping her
hands. "Oh! hasten, hasten, or we are lost!" "All in good time," said I,
"for--" "No no," interrupted she, "they are almost upon us: in a moment
we may be captured, and then Albert, oh, Albert, what will become of
you?" So saying, she threw her arms about her husba