I am quite all
right now. You see, that gardener--he isn't really a gardener." She
watched Caroline narrowly, quite unprepared for the sudden delight
in her eyes.
"Oh, _he's_ pretending, too!" cried Mary of Scots joyfully. "What is
he, really?"
"He's--he's one of my jailers," said the girl somberly. "And the
first thing he would do would be to stop up your hole under the
fence."
"Oh!" Caroline stared respectfully at the gardener, not far from
them now.
"Were you ever in chains?" she said, in an awed voice.
"No," said Joan of Arc, "I never was. I wouldn't be in this--this
fortress if I had to be in chains. This is for well-behaved
prisoners."
"Is Marie Antoinette a prisoner, too?"
"Yes," said the girl, wearily, "she is. And she has kept me one. I
should not be here now but for her. She prevented my escape."
"The mean old thing!" Caroline cried, indignantly, "did she tell?"
"She called that gardener," said the girl, "just as I was walking
out of the little gate. Of course I had to walk slowly. She is very
malicious--poor thing," she added quickly.
They were close to a little arbor now, and not so far from the
castle. Caroline could see figures here and there strolling on the
upper terraces and sitting on the piazzas.
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