will forget nothing?"
"Nothing."
"Good. Now mind. How many leagues can you walk in a day?"
"Ten, fifteen, eighteen, twenty, if need be."
"It will have to be done. Do not miss a word of what I am about to tell you. You will go to the woods of Saint-Aubin."
"Near Lamballe?"
"Yes. On the edge of a ravine between Saint-Rieul and Plédéliac there is a large chestnut-tree. You will stop there. No one will be in sight."
"But a man will be there nevertheless. On that I can depend."
"You will give the call. Do you know it?"
Halmalo puffed out his cheeks, turned towards the sea, and there rang the "to-whit-to-hoo" of the owl.
One would have supposed it came from the depths of a forest, so owl-like and sinister was the sound.
"Good!" said the old man. "You have it."
He extended to Halmalo the green silk knot.
"This is my commander's badge. Take it. No one must know my name at present; but this knot is sufficient. The fleur-de-lis was embroidered by Madame Royale in the Temple prison."
Halmalo knelt. Trembling with awe he received the knot embroidered with the fleur-de-lis, and in the act of raising it to his lips, he paused as if in fear.
"May I?" he asked.
"Yes, since you kiss the crucifix."
Halmalo kissed the fleur-de-lis.
"Rise," said the old man.
Halmalo obeyed him, placing the knot in his bosom.
"Listen carefully to what I am about to say. This is the order: 'Revolt! Give no quarter.' On the edge of the forest of Saint-Aubin you will give the call, repeating it three times. After the third time you will see a man rise from the ground."
"I know, from a hole under the trees."
"That man will be Planchenault, sometimes called Coeur-de-Roi. To him you will show this knot. He will know what it means. Then you are to go by ways that you must discover for yourself to the woods of Astillé, where you will see a cripple surnamed Mousqueton, a man who shows mercy to no human being. You are to tell him that I love him, and that he must stir up the parishes in his neighborhood. Thence you will go to the wood of Couesbon, which is one mile from Ploërmel. When you give the owl-cry, a man will come out of a hole; that will be M. Thuault, seneschal of Ploërmel, who formerly belonged to the Constitutional Assembly, but on the royalist side. You will direct him to fortify the castle of Couesbon, that belongs to the Marquis de Guer, a refugee. Ravines, woods of moderate extent, uneven soil, a good spot. M. Thuault is an able and upright man. From there you will go to Saint-Guen-les-Toits, and speak to Jean Chouan, whom I look upon as the actual leader, and then to the woods of Ville-Anglose, where you will see Guitter, called Saint-Martin; you will tell him to keep his eye on a certain Courmesnil, son-in-law of the old Goupil de Préfeln, and who is the head of the Jacobins of Argentan. Remember all this. I write nothing, because writing must be avoided. La Rouarie made out a list, which ruined everything. Thence you will go to the wood of Rougefeu, where Miélette lives, he who leaps across ravines by the help of a long pole."
"They call it a leaping-pole."
"Do you know how to use it?"
"Am I not a Breton peasant? The leaping-pole is our friend. It makes our arms bigger, our legs longer."
"That is to say, it reduces the enemy and shortens the way. An excellent machine."
"Once, with my leaping-pole, I stood my ground against three salt-tax men armed with sabres."
"When was that?"
"Ten years ago."
"Under the king?"
"Certainly."
"Against whom?"
"I really do not know. I was a salt-smuggler."
"Very good."
"It was called fighting against the collectors of the salt-tax. Is the tax on salt the same thing as the king?"
"Yes, and no. But it is not necessary for you to understand this."
"I ask monseigneur's pardon for having put a question to monseigneur."
"Let us go on. Do you know the Tourgue?"
"Do I know it! I came from there."
"How is that?"
"Why, because I come from Parigné."
"To be sure, the Tourgue borders on Parigné."
"Do I know the Tourgue! The great round castle belongs to the family of my lords. A large iron door separates the old building from the new part, which a cannon could not destroy. In the new building they keep the famous book on Saint-Barthélémy, which people come to see as a curiosity. The grass is full of frogs. When I was a boy I used to play with those frogs. And the underground passage, too. Perhaps I am the only one left who knows about that."
"What underground passage? I don't know what you are talking about."
"That was in old times, when the Tourgue was besieged. The people inside could escape through an underground passage which opened into the woods."
"I know there are subterranean passages of that kind in the châteaux of Jupellière and Hunaudaye, and in the tower of Champéon; but there is nothing like it in the Tourgue."
"But indeed there is, monseigneur. I do not know the passages of which monseigneur speaks; I only know the one in the Tourgue because I belong in the neighborhood; and besides, I am the only one who does know of it. It was never spoken of. It was forbidden, because this passage had been used in the wars of M. de Rohan. My father knew the secret and showed it to me. I know both the secret entrance and the outlet. If I am in the forest I can go into the tower; and if I am in the tower I can go into the forest without being seen, so that when the enemies enter there is no one to be found. That is the passage of the Tourgue. Oh, I know it well."
The old man remained silent for a moment.
"You must be mistaken. If there had been any such secret I should have known it."
"Monseigneur, I am sure of it. There is a stone that turns."
"Oh, yes! You peasants believe in turning-stones, in singing-stones, and in stones that go by night down to a neighboring brook to drink. A pack of idle tales!"
"But when I turned the stone myself—"
"Yes, just as others have heard it sing. My friend, the Tourgue is a Bastille, safe and strong, and easily defended; but he would be a simpleton indeed who depended for escape on a subterranean passage."
"But, monseigneur—"
The old man shrugged his shoulders—
"Let us waste no more time, but speak of business."
This peremptory tone checked Halmalo's persistence.
The old man resumed:—
"Let us go on. Listen. From Rougefeu you are to go into the wood of Montchevrier, where you will find Bénédicité, the leader of the Twelve. He is another good man. He recites his Bénédicite while he has people shot. There is no room for sensibility in warfare. From Montchevrier you will go—"
He broke off.
"I had forgotten about the money."
He took from his pocket a purse and a pocket-book, which he put into Halmalo's hands.
"In this pocket-book you will find thirty