“Where’s that scamp, Gaucher?” he said to his wife.

“In bed.”

“You, Marianne,” said the bailiff to his faithful servant, “stand in front of his door and watch him.  You, mother, stay down here, and keep an eye on this spy; keep your eyes and ears open and don’t unfasten the door to any one but Francois.  It is a question of life or death,” he added, in a deep voice.  “Every creature beneath my roof must remember that I have not quitted it this night; all of you must assert that—­even though your heads were on the block.  Come,” he said to Marthe, “come, wife, put on your shoes, take your coat, and let us be off!  No questions—­I go with you.”

For the last three quarters of an hour the man’s demeanor and glance were of despotic authority, all-powerful, irresistible, drawn from the same mysterious source from which great generals on fields of battle who inflame an army, great orators inspiring vast audiences, and (it must be said) great criminals perpetrating bold crimes derive their inspiration.  At such times invincible influence seems to exhale from the head and issue from the tongue; the gesture even can inject the will of the one man into others.  The three women knew that some dreadful crisis was at hand; without warning of its nature they felt it in the rapid actions of the man, whose countenance shone, whose forehead spoke, whose brilliant eyes glittered like stars; they saw it in the sweat that covered his brow to the roots of his hair, while more than once his voice vibrated with impatience and fury.  Marthe obeyed passively.  Armed to the teeth and with his gun over his shoulder Michu dashed into the avenue, followed by his wife.  They soon reached the cross-roads where Francois was in waiting hidden among the bushes.

“The boy is intelligent,” said Michu, when he caught sight of him.

These were his first words.  His wife had rushed after him, unable to speak.

“Go back to the house, hide in a thick tree, and watch the country and the park,” he said to his son.  “We have all gone to bed, no one is stirring.  Your grandmother will not open the door until you ask her to let you in.  Remember every word I say to you.  The life of your father and mother depends on it.  No one must know we did not sleep at home.”

After whispering these words to the boy, who instantly disappeared in the forest like an eel in the mud, Michu turned to his wife.

“Mount behind me,” he said, “and pray that God be with us.  Sit firm, the beast may die of it.”  So saying he kicked the horse with both heels, pressing him with his powerful knees, and the animal sprang forward with the rapidity of a hunter, seeming to understand what his master wanted of him, and crossed the forest in fifteen minutes.  Then Michu, who had not swerved from the shortest way, pulled up, found a spot at the edge of the woods from which he could see the roofs of the chateau of Cinq-Cygne lighted by the moon, tied his horse to a tree, and followed by his wife, gained a little eminence which overlooked the valley.