CHAPTER VII
AT LES VIGNES
"Mother Barbette is making fig jam and Nannette has given me somecroissants. Jean and I will take a little bowl of the jam with us and wewill have a picnic in the woods!"
Marie Josephine announced this from the foot of the wide granite stepsleading to the terrace at Les Vignes. Hortense sat under awide-spreading oak tree at the right of the steps. She was doing a pieceof tapestry for a fire screen, weaving the glowing colors, crimson,orange, and blue, in and out, and every now and then holding her work infront of her, surveying it critically.
"You are such a baby, Marie Josephine, thinking always of silly playswith that infant, Jean. Why do you not bring your embroidery and sithere with Cecile and me under the tree. You promised maman that youwould finish the shawl of Great-aunt Hortense so that she could have itwhen the cold days come. Her house at Saint Germain is so chilly!"Hortense shook out her silks as she spoke, holding them so that thesunlight flickered through them.
"Bother Great-aunt Hortense! She always fusses and frets about somethingand maman is so in awe of her. We treat her as though she were thequeen. I hate sewing when the sun shines like this. I don't like it anytime. I tried to embroider one rainy day when Jean and I listened to oneof Dian's stories in Mother Barbette's cottage but I could only think ofthe story!"
Cecile du Monde, who came walking slowly along a garden path, laughed atMarie Josephine's last words, but Hortense frowned.
"You are too old to be so silly. You'll be thirteen in November. We mayhave to stay here at Les Vignes for a year or even longer before we cango back to Paris. I should think you would want to begin to learn to bea young lady, Marie Josephine!"
"Name of a name, Hortense, do not preach so much!" Marie Josephinereturned crossly, but smiled the next moment at her cousin's horrifiedexpression.
"That is dreadful. You are talking like a peasant. It is because you goso much to Mother Barbette's cottage. She is a good woman but it willnot do for you to pick up expressions of the people!" Hortense frownedagain and turning to Cecile, who came and stood at the back of herchair, she said to her: "I wish that Le Pont had some authority overMarie Josephine. She has none at all!"
"Bother!" put in Marie Josephine. "Come, Flambeau!" she called as thedog bounded toward her up the terrace steps. She patted his head whileshe looked across at her cousin.
"You are not really a prig, Hortense, but you do sound like onesometimes. None of us are as nice as Mother Barbette and we never canbe--none of us, except Lisle," she said.
Cecile held a great sheaf of white and gold lilies in her arms. Theirsweetness blew about the girls in the gentle wind. It was hot, with ahazy, sleepy heat of mid-September. It was a little over a month sincethey had come to Les Vignes.
"Don't squabble, girls. See these beauties. I am going to give some toold Martin for the supper table to-night. It is so warm we could almosthave supper out of doors," Cecile said, sitting down on a low chairbeside Hortense.
"Why do you say almost, Cecile! Of course, we shall have supper outsideto-night, of course we shall! There comes Le Pont now. I'm going to runand ask her. She must say 'Yes,' for it will be a wonderful evening!"
Marie Josephine called this over her shoulder as she ran to meet thegoverness who was coming toward them down the terrace steps. She caughtMadame le Pont's hands in both of hers and swung them back and forth,and the kindly, worried face of the little woman brightened.
"It is the most beautiful day in all the world, Le Pont. It is a fairyday. Jean says that the birds and flowers talk to him right here in theLes Vignes woods when it is like this!"
"You are happy. That is well, little one. Yes, it is like the long agodays at Fontainebleau that I remember so well. We used to hunt in theforest." Madame le Pont sighed as she spoke and, taking MarieJosephine's hand, walked with her toward the others.
"Cheer up, Le Pont dear, and do say that we may have supper on theterrace, for we have set our hearts on it, all of us, even old ladyHortense!" coaxed Marie Josephine as Hortense and Cecile rose to givethe governess a chair.
"Sit here please, Madame. I will walk a little way with Marie Josephine,who is going to Madame Barbette's cottage," said Cecile, putting her armabout Marie Josephine and holding the lilies across her shoulder withher other hand. "Wait for me one moment while I give these lilies toMartin, cherie. May I tell him, Madame, that we may have supper on theterrace?" Cecile turned toward Madame le Pont as she spoke.
The governess nodded, smiling a little sadly.
"Yes, of course, if it pleases you, children, and if the night air isnot too chill," she answered as she sat down in Cecile's chair besideHortense, her satin bag of work in her hand.
"Tell Martin to put on the candelabra with the gold shade!" MarieJosephine called after Cecile as she went up the terrace steps, and herfriend looked back over her shoulder, smiling assent. Cecile] A few minutes later the two girls were walking through theforest in the demesne at Les Vignes, their arms about each other. Theywore long, full summer dresses of fine, sprigged Indian muslin, whichblew about them in the soft breeze. Cecile had on a garden hat, whichshe had tied under her chin with a pink bow, but Marie Josephine swungher hat back and forth by its black velvet streamers. She would not havegone so far as to carry one if she had not known that Hortense and thegoverness would have been shocked at her going about without a hat.
"I think that Neville will come to-night, Marie Josephine, perhaps bysundown. Think of it, news of them all, news of Lisle!" Cecile bowed herhead suddenly, almost as though she were praying.
"We will be so glad to see Neville that we will not know what to do. IfI see him coming down the drive, I shall run and run until I come up tohim. He will have messages from maman and Lisle and Rosanne. Perhaps hewill bring word that they are on the way to us!" Marie Josephine put outher hand to pat Flambeau, who was walking beside them.
"It is a fortnight since he went. He should have returned before this.It is not more than a good two days' ride with a fast horse and Nevillerides well. I hope so much that he comes to-night, Marie Josephine.Cherie, we left in the midst of so much and we have heard nothing since.I wish that we were not so far away from everything," Cecile answered.
"You are worrying, Cecile, and you are not to do that. Try and be likeBertran and Denise, who ride and dance and never seem to give a thoughtto Paris. We are better off than if we were near a town. Jacques, therunner, told Mother Barbette so. He said we were well out of all thejamboree, but--oh, I know what you mean, cherie; we want news of Lisle!"
Cecile stopped in the middle of the pathway and kissed Marie Josephineon each cheek.
"I'll go back now and sit with the others under the oak tree. SometimesI am envious of little Jean because he has you for a comrade more thanI." Cecile was smiling as she spoke, but Marie Josephine felt that shewas in earnest.
"If only you would come with us sometimes to the woods. We know of somany pretty places and we have such jolly times," she said.
Cecile turned and waved as she started back down the forest path andMarie Josephine, after waving in return, ran on through the darkarchways of the trees. When she came to a clearing in the wood she sawMother Barbette's little red cottage with the smoke rising in zigzagfashion from its chimney. She ran up the one-stone doorstep into thelow, dark room. There by her deal table was Mother Barbette and there,close beside her, licking a big iron spoon, was Jean. A row of jarsstood on the table and Mother Barbette was covering them neatly withwhite paper when Marie Josephine ran up to her.
"I tried not to make any noise so that you would be surprised," shecried, throwing both arms around Mother Barbette and kissing her rosycheek.
"Little Mademoiselle, you are welcome. I have a nice little jar of jamfor you and Jean, and, if I mistake not, the kind Nannette has given yousome of her bread to eat with it!" Madame Barbette beamed on MarieJosephine as she spoke, wiping her hands on her clean white apron.
Jean put the spoon in the empty stock pot in which the jam had beencooked and which was still hanging on the iron crane. Then he ran overto his little bed of oat straw in a far corner of the room and drew outsomething from under the pillow. He wore his black smock which did notshow the dirt and his black locks flapped about his face. He was full ofdelight at the thought of a long afternoon in the woods with his LittleMademoiselle.
Jean chatted happily as he walked beside his friend through the darkwood aisles. Now and again the sun would shine down in startling, goldenshowers of shifting light. It was harvest time and the scent of newlycut wheat blended with the spicy fragrance of the forest. As they walkedthey crushed wild thyme and lavender under their feet and the sweetnessof the flowers was all about them. Jean kept glancing at Marie Josephinea little timidly. She did not seem quite the same and he could not makeit out. He knew that she never ceased to think of her brother Lisle inParis and that she was wildly impatient for the coming of Neville withnews. They were to have had such a delightful afternoon in the woods,but she did not say anything when he skipped beside her, talking of whatthey would do. They had talked over all that had happened while she hadbeen away, of the firelight stories Dian had told him and his mother, ofthe Paris peddler who had stayed three days in Mother Barbette's cottageduring a heavy snowstorm and who had told them all the news of the city.Jean had taken Marie Josephine to see the oven he had built for her inone of their favorite nooks and they had roasted potatoes in it. She hadseemed to love it all just as usual, this dear country of Les Vignes,but to-day she was different.
It was an afternoon of bronze leaves and sunshine, of the noisydrowsiness of wood creatures, and of the brooding splendor of September.When Marie Josephine looked back at it she always thought of sunshinebetween black clouds.
"Shall we not have our bread and jam by the sundial, LittleMademoiselle?" Jean asked her as they turned down a path strewn withbrown and gold pine needles.
"Yes, that will be splendid," she answered, and then turning, calledover her shoulder: "Flambeau, where are you? We are going to the placeyou love the best of all, the sundial!" She swung her hat by itsribbons, throwing it up in the air and catching it now and then. She hadgathered her curls together into a dark coil, which bobbed over hershoulders as she walked.
"Dian is going to show us the three baby lambs to-morrow. Do you loveDian, Little Mademoiselle?" Jean asked, leaping along beside her, forshe had begun to run.
She nodded and when she sank down at last on a bank of moss she smiledand nodded again.
"I love Dian because grandfather thought so much of him. He once said,'Some people in this world are different and Dian is one of them!' Thatis the reason that we love to hear his stories!"
They sat facing the sundial. There was no place that they loved so wellas this quiet nook in the heart of a dense wood. No one really knewexactly how the sundial came to be there. The story was that an ancestorhad wished to be alone with time and had had this place made forhimself, where he used to spend long hours writing who knows what,perhaps verses, soliloquies, essays. At any rate, the sundial stillstood in the heart of the wood and the gardener kept the brush fromgrowing too close to it.
"You have not told me one fairy story since you came this time," Jeanreproached his friend as he opened the little green basket and broughtout the jam and the croissants.
"I told you of the noises of Paris and how I lay awake and listened tothem, of how Rosanne and I went to the fancy dress ball and hid in thebalcony and watched the others dance. I told you about the funny cafe inthe old green mill and the dark woman who made us the omelette. Why doyou want fairy stories when real things are so wonderful!"
Jean looked so meek and contrite as he sat there on the moss bank like alittle brown gnome, that Marie Josephine laughed out loud. Jean was hergood comrade and dear friend, but she loved to tease him.
"Let us talk about Neville while we eat the croissants and jam. I canjust picture him riding in through the gates. You and I will run to meethim, Jean. He will be covered with dust because he has ridden so fast.He will have a big packet of letters in his pocket for us all and hewill bring news of maman and Lisle. Oh, perhaps he will bring word thatthey are coming soon." Marie Josephine clasped her hands together in herearnestness. Then she took a bite of the croissants and jam and saidsomething to Jean which so surprised him that he sat bolt upright on themoss and stared at her.
"I wish you weren't such a very little boy, Jean. I wish you were oldenough to plan and do things, and that you knew about something besidessquirrels and jam and playing in the woods!"
Jean's eyes snapped and his lips trembled.
"I am not a baby, Little Mademoiselle, truly I'm not," he answered, but,as though in contradiction of his words, two big tears rolled down hischeeks.
Marie Josephine jumped up and came and sat down beside him, leaning backso that her hand rested on the grey stone base of the sundial. A fieldrabbit popped out from a clump of hedges near them, twinkled his ears,and vanished into the underbrush. Jean smiled through his tears, andwiped his eyes with his jacket.
"I didn't mean to be unkind. You can't help being young, of course, onlyyou don't seem to wake up." Marie Josephine leaned toward him eagerly asshe spoke. "I can't express what I mean. They all think I'm a baby, too,at Les Vignes--Le Pont and Hortense, all of them except Cecile--but Ithink more than they do and I know things that they don't know, thingsabout which grandfather thought and told me. You and I have always beensuch friends and I know I can tell you anything. There is something thatI may have to do sometime---- Oh, I don't know, probably not, but if Ishould do this thing, you are the only one who will know!"
Jean's tears disappeared. He smiled at his friend, and nodded his headvigorously when she asked, "You'll stand by me and keep my secret if Itell you what I may do, won't you?"
"You may trust me always, Little Mademoiselle. We are, as you say, greatfriends. We have had many good times together," he went on wistfully."You do not forget me even in the great city."
"Of course I do not, stupide! What if one day we should have anadventure, you and I! What if we should be in great peril and have allsorts of thrilling escapes!"
"They did in the old days," put in Jean eagerly. "They were always beingrescued. You know how it is in some of Dian's stories!"
Marie Josephine stood up.
"It must be time to go and meet Dian. We never want to miss that. Seehow the shadows have lengthened. Come, Jean!"
Jean picked up the little green basket and they went on through a long,straight wood path, looking back every now and then at the grey sundialin its patch of light.
"The sundial looks lonely, does it not? It has no friends but us!" Jeanexclaimed, waving his hand at it.
"You are a dear, funny boy, Jean, my little brother. Come, let's run!"As she spoke Marie Josephine caught hold of Jean's hand and they fairlyflew along the path, out into the great, wide, sweeping meadows. Theyran on down a long lane, past the great barns, pausing at the last oneto gaze inside where the sun sifting in on the grain made a glowingpicture of grey and gold. They watched the great sieves, hung betweenpoles, bending backward and forward, winnowing the grain from the chaff.Then they went on more slowly down the lane and, turning to the right,they saw suddenly the vast countryside and in the distance a slowlymoving grey mass which was really the sheep coming home from pasture.They waved their hands at a tall figure walking with the sheep and rantoward it, through the fields. The air was luminous. There were flecksof gold in the sky. It was like flying through space, this runningacross the meadows to meet Dian and his sheep.
"Isn't it good, Dian! Isn't this a fairy evening?" Marie Josephinecalled happily as they came up to the shepherd. Dian answered with aslow smile:
"It is good indeed, Little Mademoiselle. There is nothing in the wideworld so good as a meadow at sunset." Indeed, as he walked through thetufted meadow grass in his grey smock, his tall figure outlined againstthe gleaming stacks of wheat, he himself seemed a part of t
he radiantevening.
Flambeau walked gingerly over the uneven ground, his eyes and ears alertfor field rabbits. Jean and Marie Josephine walked one on each side ofthe shepherd.
"Jean and I had our gouter by the sundial. I've been talking to himabout growing up. He is so young! He thinks of nothing but the woods andbirds. He knows nothing of all that is happening in the world!" As MarieJosephine spoke, Dian turned toward her, smiling his slow, sweet smile.
"It is well that he does not know too much. This is good for him toknow, just this," the shepherd said, as he looked about him at thepasture lands with the grey sheepfold beyond, the deepening rose of thesky, and the zigzagging grey mass of sheep before them.
"It is good, Dian," Marie Josephine laughed up at him. "I am so happynow, and this afternoon I was so sad."
They had come to the sheepfold paling and Jean ran forward to help Dianopen the great door. Vif, the sheep dog, ran around and around barkinghis orders vigorously and scolding the lagging ones who wanted just onemore nibble of the sweet grass before being closed in for the night.
"The cigales have stopped buzzing, so that means summer is gone, doesn'tit, Dian?" asked Jean as they pushed back the gate together.
"Yes, and it means that the green crickets will be here soon, harvestwill be over, and winter will come." As he spoke the shepherd looked offat the horizon, and a look not so much of sadness as of greatseriousness came into his face.
"I must run back, for it is time for Prote to dress me for supper. Weare going to have it outdoors to-night as a treat." Marie Josephinelooked wistfully at Jean as she spoke. She would have so enjoyed hiscompany at the evening meal under the stars, out on the wide terrace,but Jean did not seem to be at all envious of the outdoor supper at LesVignes.
"You are to come to see us to-night, Dian. You shall have some of thenew fig jam," Jean called over his shoulder to the shepherd. Then as hewent on through the wood with Marie Josephine he said happily:
"Mother will set the little table out under the big pine by the red wellif I ask her to!"
"You will have a picnic, too, and I would rather go to it than to ours.Good-bye, Jean, until to-morrow." Marie Josephine was off like a flashtoward the great house which loomed before them as they made a suddenturning in the wood path.
She ran in at the stone lion-guarded entrance door, up a great flight ofstone stairs, and into a big room on the right at the top of the stairs.Prote stood by the window looking out, but on seeing her little chargeshe came forward hurriedly.
"Martin says supper must be early because of the nights getting cold. Itwas Madame le Pont's order. You must wear something warm over yourfrock. That was her order, too." While she spoke Prote brushed out MarieJosephine's curls in front of a long, gilded mirror which hung back ofthe dressing table. There were two silver candleholders which heldlighted candles, one on each side of the glass. Marie Josephine smiledat Prote's face in the mirror.
"I'll wear Great-aunt Hortense's shawl, you know the one she gave me tokeep until I'm grown-up. Let's talk about the bal masque, Prote. Wasn'tit splendid of Rosanne to come for me that way with Gonfleur! I want tosee Rosanne. I've so many things to tell her!"
"It may be, Little Mademoiselle, that she will have a great many thingsto tell you!" Prote's round face looked solemn as she spoke. MarieJosephine looked at her more seriously in the looking-glass.
"Yes," she answered slowly. "Yes, of course, I suppose she will. She isin Paris. Doesn't it seem strange, Prote, when it's so sweet and quiethere in Pigeon Valley, to think of Paris?"
Prote shrugged her shoulders and raised both hands, hairbrush and all.
"It is best not to think of it at all," she said.
"I must think of it, Prote. Maman is there and Lisle. Do you thinkNeville will come in a few days, Prote? Do say that you do!"
"God grant it, Little Mademoiselle!" Prote answered.
They all smiled at Marie Josephine when she appeared ready for theoutdoor supper with Great-aunt Hortense's shawl over her white dress. Itwas a scarlet crepe shawl, heavily embroidered in white fleur de lys,and it was so long that it almost completely covered her. She threw oneend of it around her shoulder and walked majestically down the terracesteps.
"You did that well, Marie Josephine. It was quite like mother's Spanishfriend at the opera," Bertran du Monde said to her, taking her arm andbowing mockingly as they went toward the supper table. This was unusualpraise from Bertran, who generally quarreled with her.
"You think you can make me believe that you were ever allowed to go toyour aunt's box at the opera at night!" returned Marie Josephine. It wassomething she had wanted so very much to do herself.
"I have been several times. Is that not so, Cecile?" Bertran answered,appealing to his sister, who had just come up to them with Madame lePont and Hortense.
Cecile nodded smilingly.
It was a merry supper party, for somehow everyone seemed to be in goodhumor. Bertran pretended to be quite overcome at being the onlygentleman among so many grand ladies. He sat at the foot of the tableand Hortense at the head. She was lovely in rose-dotted silk, her wideskirts fluttering about her in the light wind, a fichu of thread lacefastened at her breast. Cecile was lovely, too, in her pale green, hergolden hair dressed high as she had worn it at the bal masque. Deniseand Marie Josephine sat one on each side of the governess, both in whiteexcept for the gorgeous red of Marie's shawl. Bertran had changed fromhis riding clothes into blue velvet trunks and waistcoat. His stiffblack hair was fastened with a huge black velvet bow. The buckles on hisvelvet slippers sparkled like diamonds. They all laughed at him becausehe had put a black patch over his left eyebrow in imitation of agrown-up man-about-town. His face was so round and fat and he looked soyoung that such a very grown-up affair as a patch amused them all,especially Marie Josephine.
"We all know you are fourteen and that you will not be a Grand Seigneurfor a great many years." Marie Josephine smiled sweetly across atBertran as she spoke and emphasized _great_.
"Is that so, Mademoiselle Spitfire," Bertran answered, helping himselfto salad as old Martin passed it to him. He spoke good-naturedly.
There was a wide silver candelabra in the center of the table, coveredwith a gold-colored silk shade. The delicate dishes and the silverflashed in the soft light. Above them the stars twinkled a good eveningand a big, round September moon looked down.
"Is there no news of Neville, Martin?" Madame le Pont asked the oldbutler as he removed the cloth and put some silver dishes of nuts and agreen bowl full of purple grapes on the table.
"No news, Madame, but it is early yet to-night," Martin answered.
"I would not worry so much, Madame. It is bad traveling now and you knowNeville may not have been able to get fresh mounts," Bertran said to thegoverness with his most grown-up air.
"Do let us talk of something else. I'm so tired of having some one askevery five minutes if there is news of Neville," Denise said.
Madame le Pont broke a bunch of grapes on her plate and ate one slowly."We must hope for the best," she said and they all laughed.
"You always say that Le Pont, darling, you know." Marie Josephine puther hand caressingly on the governess's arm as she spoke.
"I threw pennies to the hovel children outside the gates as Denise and Irode through the demesne. It was fun to see them grabbing in the dustfor them. One of them, a tall, lanky boy, fairly wallowed in dust! Itell you, Madame, I laughed to see them, and wished I had more penniesfor them," Bertran said to the governess.
"There is no town where they can buy things, but when the bailiff comesto oversee, he will give them bread if they have money, poor things,"Madame le Pont answered.
Marie Josephine sat silently looking up at the stars for a moment. Itwas Grigge of whom Bertran had spoken, Grigge who was Jean's cousin.
Martin had poured some sparkling yellow wine into the tall, thin glassesand Bertran stood up suddenly.
"To His Majesty, King Louis of France," he said.
The ot
hers rose to their feet and said, "His Majesty the King." Thenthey drank a little of the wine and sat down again.
They did not see that some one was coming slowly from the dark shrubberyat the side of the terrace. Martin saw him first and dropped a dish ofapricots. Then the children and Madame le Pont all saw him at once, ashe came up to the table. He was a bearded man in ragged clothes, a redcap on his head. They all sat perfectly still watching him, not one ofthem cried out. It was Bertran who spoke first. He stood up and facedthe man.
"Who are you and what do you want?"
The man did not answer and Bertran said:
"Leave the presence of the ladies at once or I shall call the men on theplace." Bertran was frightened, but did his best to make his voice manlyand convincing.
Suddenly Marie Josephine jumped up from the table, and ran up to thestranger.
"Why, don't you know him? It's Neville!" she cried. There was a half sobin her voice. Neville had come back. How was it that the others had notrecognized him? She had known him by his eyes at once.
He spoke and then they all knew him. Bowing to the governess, he said:
"Your pardon, Madame, but unless I came in this disguise there was noway for me to come at all. I did not change before seeing you because itis best that you note well my disguise so that you will all know meagain."
His voice trembled and he sank on to a chair which old Martin pushedforward.
"Martin, bread and hot soup at once! The man is famished and exhausted.Bertran, pour some wine. There, that is well." The governess came toNeville's side and held the wine to his lips. Bertran]Martin went for food and the others, filled with concern and interest,came up close to Neville.
When he could speak, Neville looked at Madame le Pont and said faintly:
"I would see you alone, Madame!"
Then it seemed as though they all spoke at once, crowding up to hischair.
"No, no, Neville, tell us also. Tell us all there is to know!"
"Tell us that maman and Lisle are well and safe." Marie Josephine puther arm on Neville's ragged coat as she spoke.
"Safe," he answered. "Safe enough so far and there seems to be no realdanger for them yet, but the city--ah, Madame, the city!"
"Yes, yes, tell us. What of the city?" It was the governess who spoke.
"Marat has control of everything. They have taken twenty thousand standof arms from the homes of royalists and most of the royalists who couldescape have done so, but now the city gates are closely guarded. Thecomtesse and Monsieur Lisle will not leave because, for one reason, yourgreat-aunt, the Marquise du Ganne, is old and ailing. She cannot escape,and they could not leave her in the city as it is now. More than that,we see no way for them to escape, even if it should be that Madame duGanne should not live!"
Neville fumbled in his pocket.
"I have a letter to you all from Madame la Comtesse and there is a notefor Little Mademoiselle from Monsieur Lisle. It was not really safe tobring them but I took the risk."
He brought out the two notes, handing one to Madame le Pont and theother to Marie Josephine, who caught it and held it close to her heart,the red shawl falling to the ground at her feet unheeded. She opened itand read:
TO MY SISTER MARIE JOSEPHINE: Maman and I are deeply interested in theprogress of our royalist armies and the good news that Austria haspromised aid. This troublesome time is but for the moment. We are verycomfortable with Henri to take care of us. How is Flambeau? My respectsto Madame and the girls and greetings to Dian. See to it that you arepatient and unafraid.
My love to you,
Lisle Georges Montfleur Saint Frere.
_Postscript._ Tell Dian I will have some stories to match his one day.
As Marie Josephine stood there under the stars, the letter clasped inher hands, the words that her mother had spoken on the morning that theyhad left for Les Vignes came back to her: "There may come a time lateron when it will not be so easy to get away!"