As the priest finished speaking, three men rode
through the gates, into the avenue, directly up to the house-door: one
was tolerably well mounted on a large horse, the second was on a shaggy
pony, and the third, who was rather behind the others, was seated on a
mule of most unprepossessing appearance, whose sides he did not for a
moment cease to lacerate with his heels, to enable himself to keep up
with his companions.
"That is Foret, from St. Florent himself!" shouted the priest, rushing
out towards the door, as soon as he saw the first horseman turn in at
the gate; "a good man, and true as any living, and one who hates a
skulking republican as he does the devil."
"And that is the postillion himself, on the pony!" shouted Henri,
running after him. "I could swear to him, by his hat, among a thousand."
"Who is the man on the mule, Adolphe?" said de Lescure, remaining at the
window. "By the bye," he added, turning to the two girls who remained
with him, and who were trembling in every joint, at they knew not what,
"I forgot, in my hurry, or rather I hadn't time as yet to tell Henri
that I had heard that these men were coming here.
Pages:
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101