He had yet a good deal to say to Mademoiselle, but he could not bring himself to speak to her before her mother, particularly as he realised how much the Marquise might be opposed to him.

He opened the carriage door.
"Mademoiselle," he called softly, "will you do me the favour to alight for an instant?
I must speak to you." "Can you not say what you have to say where you are ?" came the Marquise's voice.
"No, Madame," answered La Boulaye coldly, "I cannot." "Oh, it is 'Madame' and 'Mademoiselle' now, eh?
What have you done to the man, child, to have earned us so much deference." "May I remind Mademoiselle," put in La Boulaye firmly, "that time presses, and that there is much to be done ?" "I am here, Monsieur" she answered, as without more ado, and heedless of her mother's fresh remarks, she stepped from the carriage.
La Boulaye proffered his wrist to assist her to alight, then reclosed the door, and led her slowly towards the stable.
"Where are the soldiers ?" she whispered.
"Every soul in the inn is asleep," he answered.

"I have drugged them all, from the Captain down to the hostess.

The only one left is the ostler, who is sleeping in one of the outhouses here.

Him you must take with you, not only because it is not possible to drug him as well, but also because the blame of your escape must rest on someone, and it may as well rest on him as another." "But why not on you ?" she asked.
"Because I must remain." "Ah!" It was no more than a breath of interrogation, and her face was turned towards him as she awaited an explanation.
"I have given it much thought, Suzanne, and unless someone remains to cover, as it were, your retreat, I am afraid that your flight might be vain, and that you would run an overwhelming risk of recapture.