The Companions of Jehu by Alexandre Dumas (best ereader for comics TXT) 📖

“They or others—what matter?” said Vallensolle. “Faith! My citation is made, and like the Abbé Vertot, who wouldn’t rewrite his siege, I’ll not change it.”

“Well, another time you had better say the Egyptians.”

“Well,” said Valensolle, with an indifference that was not without a certain sadness, “I’ll probably be a skeleton myself before I have another chance to display my erudition. But what the devil are you doing? Why did you put out the torch? You’re not going to make me eat and sleep here I hope?”

Morgan had in fact extinguished the torch at the foot of the steps leading to the upper floor.

“Give me your hand,” said the young man.

Valensolle seized his friend’s band with an eagerness that showed how very slight a desire he had to make a longer stay in the gloomy vaults of the dukes of Savoy, no matter what honor there might be in such illustrious companionship.

Morgan went up the steps. Then, by the tightening of his hand, Valensolle knew he was making an effort. Presently a stone was raised, and through the opening a trembling gleam of twilight met the eyes of the young men, and a fragrant aromatic odor came to comfort their sense of smell after the mephitic atmosphere of the vaults.

“Ah!” cried Valensolle, “we are in a barn; I prefer that.”

Morgan did not answer; he helped his companion to climb out of the vault, and then let the stone drop back in its place.

Valensolle looked about him. He was in the midst of a vast building filled with hay, into which the light filtered through windows of such exquisite form that they certainly could not be those of a barn.

“Why!” said Valensolle, “we are not in a barn!”

“Climb up the hay and sit down near that window,” replied Morgan.

Valensolle obeyed and scrambled up the hay like a schoolboy in his holidays; then he sat down, as Morgan had told him, before a window. The next moment Morgan placed between his friend’s legs a napkin containing a paté, bread, a bottle of wine, two glasses, two knives and two forks.

“The deuce!” cried Valensolle, “‘Lucullus sups with Lucullus.’”

Then gazing through the panes at a building with numberless windows, which seemed to be a wing of the one they were in, and before which a sentry was pacing, he exclaimed: “Positively, I can’t eat my supper till I know where we are. What is this building? And why that sentry at the door?”

“Well,” said Morgan, “since you absolutely must know, I will tell you. We are in the church of Brou, which was converted into a fodder storehouse by a decree of the Municipal Council. That adjoining building is now the barracks of the gendarmerie, and that sentry is posted to prevent any one from disturbing our supper or surprising us while we sleep.”

“Brave fellows,” said Valensolle, filling his glass; “their health, Morgan!”

“And ours!” said the young man, laughing; “the devil take me if any one could dream of finding us here.”

Morgan had hardly drained his glass, when, as if the devil had accepted the challenge, the sentinel’s harsh, strident voice cried: “Qui vive!”

“Hey!” exclaimed the two young men, “what does this mean?”

A body of thirty men came from the direction of Pont d’Ain, and, after giving the countersign to the sentry, at once dispersed; the larger number, led by two men, who seemed to be officers, entered the barracks; the others continued on their way.

“Attention!” said Morgan.

And both young men, on their knees, their ears alert, their eyes at the window, waited.

Let us now explain to the reader the cause of this interruption of a repast which, though taken at three o’clock in the morning, was not, as we have seen, over-tranquil.