Jane Feather - Charade by Unknown (howl and other poems .TXT) 📕

to mingle with the. procession to the gates thenwe must do so quickly." It was true—all around them the farmers wereclosing their stalls, reharnessing the patient horses to the carts, andpacking up unsold produce.

"I will go ahead and tell the de St. Vire family of your change ofplan," St. Estephe offered. "You will bring the carts to the alleybehind the house where your passengers will be waiting for you."

"D'accord."

Danny agreed. "Ina half hour then."

It was a petrified group waiting in the shadow of the high wallenclosing the St. Vire town house and Julian's heart sank when he sawthe infant clutched in the

comtesses

arms. One inopportune cry frombeneath the turnips and they would all be lost. There were two otherchildren, white-faced, solemn-eyed tots of around four and five. TheComte de St. Vire stood with them and stared incredulously as Dannysprang from the leading cart and began to give swift instructions. Thisfilthy little vagabond was going to take his family to safety! Helooked helplessly at the four large farmers and one of them, as ifreading his mind, winked and nodded.

For an instant the

comte

hadsecond thoughts and then a drum rollsounded from a nearby lane and a great cry of

"Vivent les patriotes!"

rent theair. He embraced his wife and childrenand helped to hurry them into the carts.

"Madame," Danielle said urgently, "you must contrive to keep the babesilent until we are through the gates."

They spread blankets over their passengers, then a layer of strawbefore arranging the remaining produce in seeming haphazard fashion.

"Next time you will come with us yourself,

mon ami."

Danny whispered tode St. Vire. "Someone else

can then continue your work and we willoperate a chain in that manner."

The

comte

looked down at thesmall grime-encrusted face, the largebrown eyes sparkling with intelligence, heard the authoritativecultured voice of one of his own kind and took her hand in a firm

grip.

"Bonne

chance. You will findme ready on your return and the chain inplace."

"Qa va. Au revoir, comte

."She leapt into the cart and Jules clickedhis teeth at the horses and they lumbered in the direction of theBarriere St. Antoine.

Danny, throughout the journey, hopped up and down on the slatted bench,yelling comments to the people in the street in the rough argot thatcame so easily to her lips. The comments were received with laughterand frequently returned in vulgar kind. As they mingled with thetraffic moving slowly toward the gate, she kept up a stream ofconversation with their neighbors, jumping in to answer any remarkdirected to Julian or to the three farmers in the cart beside them. Herfour colleagues maintained a dour mien that aroused no remark—it hadbeen a long hard day, after all. As they approached the gate, Dannymade a particularly outrageous sally and Jules cuffed her with anexasperated inarticulate growl. Even the guards laughed and shoutedfriendly advice to Julian as the urchin poured out a stream ofindignant protestation at this summary treatment—and then they werethrough.

"Eh bien, c'est possible."

Danielle murmured almost to herself, andJulian shot her a startled glance.

It was the first time she had givenany indication that she had had doubts as to the success of theirenterprise. In fact it was only her unfailing confidence and unflaggingspirits that had kept the hounds

ofdiscouragement at bay for the rest of them.

Julian made the silent resolve that this would be the last occasion shecarried the full burden. They had played their parts, certainly, butexcept for the matter of the carts they had followed instructions andaccepted her cheerful insouciance at face value. Justin would not havedone so, Jules reflected. He

would have seen beneath the surface to thefatigue and anxiety that now showed clearly in the drawn

face andenormous smudged eyes.

"Climb in the back and go to sleep, Danny," he said quietly. "We cannotstop for the night until we are

at least twenty miles from Paris. Thehorses are quite fresh after a day's rest and we will travel further

ifwe are able."

"But you may need me .. ." She looked longingly behind her at the strawand the turnips.

"I do not wish to offend you, ma'am," Jules said dryly, "but I think wemay do very well without you

for a few hours."

At that she chuckled wearily. "Very well then. I own I am in need of ashort rest, but no more than an hour and then I will be quite refreshedagain." Danny scrambled into the back where she located the two bodiesof the children and whispered encouragingly to them as she burrowedinto the straw and slept.

Jules had a brief consultation with his friends and they agreed topress on until after dark, by which time they should be deep in thecountryside, safely away from the environs of Paris that seethed withrevolutionary ferment almost as much as did the city itself.

They could not risk an inn this close to the capital and when Danielleeventually awoke it was darkest night. She lay for a few momentsrecapturing her senses, looking up into the panoply of trees. Somethingwas digging into her back and she located the offending object to findthat it was a turnip. Memory came flooding back and with it theknowledge that she was ravenously hungry. She sat up blinking as hereyes accustomed themselves to the darkness lightened only by the moonfiltering through the trees and the soft glow of a small fire. Twolittle figures and a larger one cradling a tiny bundle sleptwrapped in blankets at the mossy base of a tree. Beside the fire satDanny's fellow conspirators. The most glorious aroma wafted from aniron pot resting over the embers.

"Ah, Danny, you are awake at last." Philip got up to swing her downfrom the cart. "We have made our bivouac, as you can see, and havesaved you some excellent rabbit stew."

"But how long have I been asleep?" she asked, looking around thisorderly scene that had somehow been accomplished without her. "Andwhere are