And that troubled M. la Tribe no little, although he did not impart his
thoughts to his companion. Instead they talked in whispers of the things
which had happened; of the Admiral, of Teligny, whom all loved, of
Rochefoucauld the accomplished, the King's friend; of the princes in the
Louvre whom they gave up for lost, and of the Huguenot nobles on the
farther side of the river, of whose safety there seemed some hope.
Tignonville--he best knew why--said nothing of the fate of his betrothed,
or of his own adventures in that connection. But each told the other how
the alarm had reached him, and painted in broken words his reluctance to
believe in treachery so black. Thence they passed to the future of the
cause, and of that took views as opposite as light and darkness, as
Papegot and Huguenot. The one was confident, the other in despair. And
some time in the afternoon, worn out by the awful experiences of the last
twelve hours, they fell asleep, their heads on their arms, the hay
tickling their faces; and, with death stalking the lane beside them,
slept soundly until after sundown.
When they awoke hunger awoke with them, and urged on La Tribe's mind the
question of the missing egg. It was not altogether the prick of appetite
which troubled him, but regarding the hiding-place in which they lay as
an ark of refuge providentially supplied, protected and victualled, he
could not refrain from asking reverently what the deficiency meant. It
was not as if one hen only had appeared; as if no farther prospect had
been extended. But up to a certain point the message was clear. Then
when the Hand of Providence had shown itself most plainly, and in a
manner to melt the heart with awe and thankfulness, the message had been
blurred. Seriously the Huguenot asked himself what it portended.
To Tignonville, if he thought of it at all, the matter was the matter of
an egg, and stopped there. An egg might alleviate the growing pangs of
hunger; its non-appearance was a disappointment, but he traced the matter
no farther. It must be confessed, too, that the haycart was to him only
a haycart--and not an ark; and the sooner he was safely away from it the
better he would be pleased. While La Tribe, lying snug and warm beside
him, thanked God for a lot so different from that of such of his fellows
as had escaped--whom he pictured crouching in dank cellars, or on roof-
trees exposed to the heat by day and the dews by night--the young man
grew more and more restive.
Hunger pricked him, and the meanness of the part he had played moved him
to action. About midnight, resisting the dissuasions of his companion,
he would have sallied out in search of food if the passage of a turbulent
crowd had not warned him that the work of murder was still proceeding. He
curbed himself after that and lay until daylight. But, ill content with
his own conduct, on fire when he thought of his betrothed, he was in no
temper to bear hardship cheerfully or long; and gradually there rose
before his mind the picture of Madame St. Lo's smiling face, and the fair
hair which curled low on the white of her neck.