Evidently what he had to say was very difficult to put into words.

He groped in his pockets and brought out a large bandana handkerchief, red and yellow and green, with which he began to mop his moist forehead.

The quaver in his voice and the trembling of his hands became more apparent and pronounced.
"Yes, M.l'Abbe?
Because ?..." queried Marguerite gently.
"They said that if I guarded you well, Felicite and Francois would be set free," replied the old man after a while, during which he made vigorous efforts to overcome his nervousness, "and that if you escaped the children and I would be guillotined the very next day." There was silence in the little room now.

The Abbe was sitting quite still, clasping his trembling fingers, and Marguerite neither moved nor spoke.

What the old man had just said was very slowly finding its way to the innermost cells of her brain.