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The Scarlet Pimpernel

XXIII. Hope
"Faith, Madame!" said Sir Andrew, seeing that Marguerite seemed desirous to
call her surly host back again, "I think we'd better leave him alone. We shall not
get anything more out of him, and we might arouse his suspicions. One never
knows what spies may be lurking around these God-forsaken places."
"What care I?" she replied lightly, "now I know that my husband is safe, and that I
shall see him almost directly!"
"Hush!" he said in genuine alarm, for she had talked quite loudly, in the fulness of
her glee, "the very walls have ears in France, these days."
He rose quickly from the table, and walked round the bare, squalid room,
listening attentively at the door, through which Brogard has just disappeared, and
whence only muttered oaths and shuffling footsteps could be heard. He also ran
up the rickety steps that led to the attic, to assure himself that there were no
spies of Chauvelin's about the place.
"Are we alone, Monsieur, my lacquey?" said Marguerite, gaily, as the young man
once more sat down beside her. "May we talk?"
"As cautiously as possible!" he entreated.
"Faith, man! but you wear a glum face! As for me, I could dance with joy! Surely
there is no longer any cause for fear. Our boat is on the beach, the FOAM
CREST not two miles out at sea, and my husband will be here, under this very
roof, within the next half hour perhaps. Sure! there is naught to hinder us.
Chauvelin and his gang have not yet arrived."
"Nay, madam! that I fear we do not know."
"What do you mean?"
"He was at Dover at the same time that we were."
"Held up by the same storm, which kept us from starting."
"Exactly. But--I did not speak of it before, for I feared to alarm you--I saw him on
the beach not five minutes before we embarked. At least, I swore to myself at the
time that it was himself; he was disguised as a CURE, so that Satan, his own
guardian, would scarce have known him. But I heard him then, bargaining for a
 
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