I wished to consider Marianne's news before communicating it to any of my
men. I had to inquire of myself whether it called for any immediate
action on my part. So that my meditations might not be interrupted, I
left the chateau and walked into the forest.
For hours I considered the possible relations of the governor's arrival
to mademoiselle's safety and my own, to that of my men and our cause, and
to my intention of delivering M. de Varion from prison. But I could
arrive at no conclusion, for I knew neither the governor's intentions,
nor what information he had concerning me. There were so many
probabilities and so many possible combinations of them, that at last I
threw the whole matter from my mind, determining to await events. On the
way back to the chateau I reproached myself for having wasted so much
time in making useless guesses, for when I found myself at the gate it
was night, and the moon had risen.
I stopped at the entrance and stood still to listen to the voice of
Blaise, which rose in the courtyard in the words of a psalm. He sang it
with a gentleness the very reverse of the feeling his voice had expressed
in the war hymn a few hours earlier. From a sound that came between the
words now and then, I knew that he was engaged in one of his favorite
occupations, that of polishing his weapons.
Pleased to hear him singing in the moonlight, I stood at the gate, lest
by entering I might interrupt the psalm.
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