down without a struggle. He loved a discussion and would seek with great energy and ingenuity to find a way around the practical obstacles Marie presented. Because she was not certain of how to introduce the idea that she would be able to free them, Leonie fell into the old pattern.
“But Papa, you are putting the cart in front of the horse. What difference does it make whether I have a place to go if I cannot get out?
Leonie’s English was clear, fluent and idiomatic. Only the slightest accent and foreign intonation marked it as being a second language. Henry had always spoken English to his children. He had always insisted that they should visit his family. Somehow, it had never been the right time to go to England. The first years of his marriage had been devoted to restoring his wife’s estates to profitable productivity. By the time he had things running smoothly on the land, Henry had seen that the government of France could not continue to exist as it was and had thrown himself into the agitation for reform and into practical measures for relieving the misery of the local population. Those efforts had made inevitable his election as deputy for the district in 1789 and then it was too late.
Henry smiled at her. “The way out is simple enough child. When someone brings us food—it’s always that young man these days—I’ll jump on him from behind the door. I’m not as strong as I was but I’m still stronger than that boy.”
Leonie was not at all sure of that. The muscles in Louis’ small body were whipcord and steel, and her father’s were soft with inactivity and weak with starvation. However, she did not argue. Her plan was better and surer, but there was no harm in having a second string to one’s bow. If Louis did not soon “take her for a walk” or if Louis should be sent away or denounced—Jean-Paul might be more aware of what Louis was than the thief believed—it might be necessary to use her father’s plan. There was a good chance it would work, Leonie thought. Even after the first shock of seeing his wife and daughter raped had worn off, Papa had been docile for fear his loved ones would be punished for any rebellion on his part. And since Mama’s death he had been little more than a limp body. Leonie was surprised at how well he responded to her prodding. She had feared she would be unable to rouse him, even though he had begun to eat and sit up without urging the day before.
“If we must,” Leonie agreed tentatively. “I could help you. Between us… Very well, once out of the cell there can be no trouble getting out of the building. Usually no one except Louis is here after dark. There is a side door that is barred which we can open from the inside.” Louis had shown Leonie that door—a temptation to test whether she would try to escape while he “slept”. “It is after that we will have trouble. The gates of the town are locked at night and we certainly could not escape before dark. Also, by the next morning our absence will have been discovered.
“That’s all true enough, but I daren’t try to get help from friends in town. If they’re not already prisoners, Jean-Paul’s men will look first in those places. I think we can get over the wall.”
“Over the wall!” Leonie looked with blank astonishment at her father. The walls of Saulieu were nearly ten meters high.
Henry grinned at his daughter, his face losing for the moment the haggard, defeated look it had worn for so long. “I’ve climbed cliffs three or four times as high, and smoother, but I don’t expect you to be a monkey, my sweet. In the poor quarter, there are houses built right up against the wall. If I can find a rope, I can draw you up from a roof and let you down on the other side.”
“But Papa,” Leonie protested, “there might be guards on the wall. And what about the people that live in the houses? What will they think and do if they see us climbing roofs and walls? Will they not cry out that
“But Papa, you are putting the cart in front of the horse. What difference does it make whether I have a place to go if I cannot get out?
Leonie’s English was clear, fluent and idiomatic. Only the slightest accent and foreign intonation marked it as being a second language. Henry had always spoken English to his children. He had always insisted that they should visit his family. Somehow, it had never been the right time to go to England. The first years of his marriage had been devoted to restoring his wife’s estates to profitable productivity. By the time he had things running smoothly on the land, Henry had seen that the government of France could not continue to exist as it was and had thrown himself into the agitation for reform and into practical measures for relieving the misery of the local population. Those efforts had made inevitable his election as deputy for the district in 1789 and then it was too late.
Henry smiled at her. “The way out is simple enough child. When someone brings us food—it’s always that young man these days—I’ll jump on him from behind the door. I’m not as strong as I was but I’m still stronger than that boy.”
Leonie was not at all sure of that. The muscles in Louis’ small body were whipcord and steel, and her father’s were soft with inactivity and weak with starvation. However, she did not argue. Her plan was better and surer, but there was no harm in having a second string to one’s bow. If Louis did not soon “take her for a walk” or if Louis should be sent away or denounced—Jean-Paul might be more aware of what Louis was than the thief believed—it might be necessary to use her father’s plan. There was a good chance it would work, Leonie thought. Even after the first shock of seeing his wife and daughter raped had worn off, Papa had been docile for fear his loved ones would be punished for any rebellion on his part. And since Mama’s death he had been little more than a limp body. Leonie was surprised at how well he responded to her prodding. She had feared she would be unable to rouse him, even though he had begun to eat and sit up without urging the day before.
“If we must,” Leonie agreed tentatively. “I could help you. Between us… Very well, once out of the cell there can be no trouble getting out of the building. Usually no one except Louis is here after dark. There is a side door that is barred which we can open from the inside.” Louis had shown Leonie that door—a temptation to test whether she would try to escape while he “slept”. “It is after that we will have trouble. The gates of the town are locked at night and we certainly could not escape before dark. Also, by the next morning our absence will have been discovered.
“That’s all true enough, but I daren’t try to get help from friends in town. If they’re not already prisoners, Jean-Paul’s men will look first in those places. I think we can get over the wall.”
“Over the wall!” Leonie looked with blank astonishment at her father. The walls of Saulieu were nearly ten meters high.
Henry grinned at his daughter, his face losing for the moment the haggard, defeated look it had worn for so long. “I’ve climbed cliffs three or four times as high, and smoother, but I don’t expect you to be a monkey, my sweet. In the poor quarter, there are houses built right up against the wall. If I can find a rope, I can draw you up from a roof and let you down on the other side.”
“But Papa,” Leonie protested, “there might be guards on the wall. And what about the people that live in the houses? What will they think and do if they see us climbing roofs and walls? Will they not cry out that
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