The old coach gave a cry so piteous at this salute, that the Chouans, naturally superstitions, fell back in alarm, save Marche-à-Terre, who had seen the pale face of the mute traveler as it rose and fell inside.
"There is one more fowl yet in your coop," Marche-à-Terre said in a low voice to Coupiau. Pille-Miche, who saw what this meant, winked significantly.
"Yes," replied the driver; "but I made it a condition when I enlisted with you that I was to take this worthy man safe and sound to Fougères. I promised that in the name of the Saint of Auray."
"Who is he?" asked Pille-Miche.
"I can't tell you that," said Coupiau.
"Let him alone!" said Marche-à-Terre, nudging Pille-Miche with his elbow. "He swore by the Holy Virgin of Auray, and a promise is a promise. But don't be in too great a hurry down the hill," the Chouan went on, addressing Coupiau; "we will catch you up for reasons of our own. I want to see the muzzle of that passenger of yours, and then we will give him a passport."
A horse was heard approaching La Pèlerine at full gallop. In a moment the young leader returned, and the lady promptly tried to conceal her hand with the bag in it.
"You need not scruple to keep that money," he said, drawing the lady's arm forward. "Here is a letter for you among those that awaited me at the Vivetière; it is from your mother."
He looked from the coach, which now descended the hill, to the Chouans, and added, "In spite of my haste, I am too late. Heaven send that my fears are ill grounded!"
"That is my poor mother's money!" cried the lady, when she had broken the seal of the letter and read the first few lines.
Sounds of smothered laughter came from the woods.
The young man himself could not help smiling at sight of the lady with a share of the plunder of her own property in her hands. She began to laugh herself.
vol. 15—5
