“I prefer walking,” interposed my mother.  “Jacques is unable to do so.”

“Impossible!  I am sure you have not the strength for it,” said we all.

“Never fear,” said she, stoutly.

“No, no; it must not be,” said I.

“And you, my son?”

“I will undertake for him,” said La Croissette, who, it now appeared, had been listening behind the doorway all this time.

“Who are you, my man?” said M. Bourdinave, in surprise and some distrust.

“An honest fellow, though I say it that shouldn’t,” was his answer.  “I am one of those who deal in deeds more than words.  I cannot patter Ave Marias with a Catholic, nor sing interminable psalms like a Huguenot, but neither can I endure the ways the Catholics are taking to compel the Huguenots to submission.  I take my own way, d’ye see, and am fettered by nobody.  No one would molest La Croissette the needle-seller, not even a dragoon.  And I have learnt to esteem you all; I admire the young ladies, and respect the old lady and gentleman.  Therefore, there’s my hand; you may take it or not.  ’Tis not over soft; but there’s no blood on it, and it never took a bribe.  Let those say so who can.  And what I say next is this:  Dr. Jameray has fallen sick, and I’ve undertaken to drive his little wagon, with the sign of the bleeding tooth, from hence to Montauban.  As far as that I’ll give my young friend here a cast, and he may thence easily take boat down the Garonne to Bordeaux.  At least, if he cannot of himself, I’ll manage it for him.”

How grateful we were to the worthy La Croissette!  Not one of us distrusted him in the least; at any rate, if M. Bourdinave did so at first, he was soon reassured by us, and took the honest fellow heartily by the hand.  A good deal more was now said than I have space to recount or memory to recall.  Indeed, my head was in a confused state, and I was conscious of little but of the tender pressure of dear Madeleine’s hand, from whom I must so soon part.

We were to start as soon as night afforded us its friendly cover; but some hours of daylight remained.  My father and M. Bourdinave had many business affairs to discuss, and Madeleine kept the children quiet, that they might not interrupt them.  I never thought Gabrielle so pretty as now that she had spoken with resolution, and seemed strengthening herself to keep up to it.  Nevertheless, we have no real strength of our own; it all comes from God; but He gives it to all who ask it faithfully.  Madeleine whispered to me, “Let us pray that strength for her duty may be given her.”  I nodded and smiled.