It was Agatha Larochejaquelin. She and her father had, by slow stages,
reached St. Florent in safety; and, after having seen him at rest, and
spoken a word to her brother, her first care had been to inquire after
the mother of Cathelineau. She had been told of her solitary state, and
of her stubborn resolution to remain at St. Florent, and she determined
to offer her any aid in her power, as a duty due to the memory of him,
with whom she had been, for a short time, so strangely connected.
The old woman rose mechanically, and made a slight obeisance as she saw
Agatha's commanding figure, and then reseating herself, hastily
recommenced her work, as though she had forgotten herself, in having
been thus far courteous to her guest.
"I have come to express my esteem and respect to the mother of
Cathelineau," said Agatha, as soon as she found herself inside the
cottage. "I knew and valued your son, and I shall be glad to know his
mother. Was not the brave Cathelineau your son, my friend?" she added,
seeing that the old woman stared at her, as though she did not as yet
comprehend the object of her visit.
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