His own safety had been long in peril; he might be dead,
for all I knew. I thanked the poor woman warmly, and then asked her
if the old man might not betray me to strangers. She bade me leave
all that to her--that I should be safe for a while, at least.
Soon afterwards I went abroad, and made my way by a devious
route to Voban's house. As I did so, I could see the lights of our
fleet in the Basin, and the camp-fires of our army on the Levis
shore, on Isle Orleans, and even at Montmorenci, and the myriad
lights in the French encampment at Beauport. How impossible it all
looked--to unseat from this high rock the Empire of France! Ay,
and how hard it would be to get out of this same city with Alixe!
Voban's house stood amid a mass of ruins, itself broken a little,
but still sound enough to live in. There was no light. I clambered
over debris, made my way to his bedroom window, and tapped on the
shutter. There was no response. I tried to open it, but it would not
stir. So I thrust beneath it, on the chance of his finding it if he
opened the casement in the morning, a little piece of paper, with
one word upon it--the name of his brother. He knew my handwriting,
and he would guess where to-morrow would find me, for I had also
hastily drawn upon the paper the entrance of the cathedral.
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