was my surprise when we reached the courtyard, to hear my maid Mousette's voice, and I saw her perched on a little nag, already engaged in a flirtation with one of the men. When I spoke to her she pressed her horse forward and began hurriedly:
"I was sent here with Madame's things," she said. "I am afraid the valises are but hastily packed, and much has had to be left behind; but Madame will excuse me, I know; it was all so quick, and I had so little time."
"Thank you, Mousette," and I turned to my horse, her address of Madame ringing strangely in my ears.
We were, including Madame de Termes' servants, who were well armed, a party of about twelve, small enough to face the danger of the road in those unsettled days, but no thought of this struck me, and as for Madame de Termes, she would, I do believe, have braved the journey alone, so anxious was she to be by the Vicomte's side, for between herself and the stout old soldier, who held the lieutenancy of Périgord, there existed the deepest affection.
As we rode down the Bourdonnais, I could not help thinking to myself how noble a spirit it was that animated my friend. Not for one moment had she allowed her own trouble to stand in the way of her helping me. Her husband, whom, as I have said, she dearly loved, was ill, perhaps dying, and yet in her sympathy and pity for me, she had let no word drop about him, except the cheery assurance of his protection. Nevertheless, as we rode on, she ever kept turning towards Lalande, her equerry, and bade him urge the lagging baggage animals on. Passing the Grand Chatelet, we crossed the arms of the river by the Pont au Change, and the Pont St. Michel, and kept steadily down the Rue de la Harpe towards the Porte St. Martin. We gained this not a moment too soon, for as the last of the baggage animals passed it, we heard the officer give the word to lower the drawbridge and close the gates. The clanking of the chains, and the creaking of the huge doors came to me with something of relief in them, for it seemed to me that I was safe from further tyranny from the Hôtel de Soissons, at any rate for this night.
As we passed the huge silhouette of the Hôtel de Luxembourg, we heard the bells of St. Sulpice sounding Compline, and then, from behind us, the solemn notes rang out from the spires of the city churches. Yielding to an impulse I could not resist, I turned in my saddle and looked back, letting my eyes run over the vast, dim outlines of the city, so softened by the moonlight that it was as if some opaque, fantastic cloud was resting on the earth. Above curved the profound blue of the night, with here and there a star struggling to force its way past the splendour of the moon. All was quiet and still, and the church bells ringing out were as a message from His creatures to the Most High. I let my heart go after the voices of the bells as they travelled heavenward, and had it not been for Mousette's shrill tones, that cut through the quiet night and recalled me to myself, I might have let the party go onwards, I do not know how far. As it was, I had to bustle my little horse to gain the side of Madame de Termes once more. It was not, of course, our intention to travel all night. That would have been impossible, for it would have entailed weary horses, and a long halt the next day; but it was proposed that we should make for a small château belonging to Monsieur de Bouchage, the brother of the Duc de Joyeuse, which he had placed at Madame de Termes' disposal, and there rest for the remainder of the night, making a start early the next morning, and then pressing on daily, as fast as our strength would allow. Lalande had sent a courier on in advance to announce our sudden coming. We did not expect to reach de Bouchage's house until about midnight, and the equerry was fussing up and down the line of march, urging a packhorse on here, checking a restive animal there, and ever and again warning the lackeys to keep their arms in readiness, for the times were such that no man's teeth were safe in his head, unless he wore a good blade by his side.
We were, in short, on the eve of that tremendous struggle which, beginning with the Day of the Barricades, went on to the murder of the Princes of Lorraine on that terrible Christmastide at Blois, and culminated with the dagger of Clement and the death of the miscreant whom God in His anger had given to us for a king.
Already the Huguenots were arming again, and it was afloat that the Palatine had sent twenty thousand men, under Dhona, to emulate the march of the Duc de Deux Ponts from the Rhine to Guyenne. It was said that the Montpensier had gone so far as to attempt to seize the person of the King, swearing that once in her hands, he would never see the outside of four walls again, and rumours were flitting here and there, crediting the Bearnnois with the same, if not deeper, resolves.
Things being so, the land was as full of angry murmurs as a nest of disturbed bees; the result being that the writ of the King was almost as waste paper, and bands of cut-throat soldiery committed every excess, now under the white, then under the red scarf, as it suited their convenience.
It was for this reason that Lalande urged us on, and we were nothing loath ourselves to hasten, but our pace had to be regulated by that of the laden animals, and do what we would our progress was slow.
Madame and I rode in the rear of the troop, a couple of armed men immediately behind us. Lalande was in front, and exercised the greatest caution whenever we came to a place that was at all likely to be used for an ambuscade.
Nothing, however, happened, and finally we set down to a jogging motion, speaking no word, for we were wearied, and with no sound to break the silence of the night except the shuffling of our horses, the straining of their harness, and the clink of sword sheath and chain bit.
Suddenly we were startled by the rapid beat of hoofs, and in a moment, a white horse and its rider emerged from the moonlit haze to our right, coming as it were straight upon us. Lalande gave a quick order to halt, and I saw the barrel of his pistol flashing in his hand; but the horseman, with a cry of "For the King! Way! Way!" dashed over the road at full gallop, and sped off like a sprite over the open plain to our left.
"Did you hear the voice, Denise?" asked Madame.
"Yes."
"It is stranger than ever," she said, and I could make no answer.
There was no doubt about it. It was de Lorgnac; and instead of going to the Porte St. Honoré as I thought when he left us, he must have crossed by the Meunniers and come out by the St. Germains Gate. He had evidently, too, separated himself from his men.
"I shall be glad when we reach de Bouchage's house," I said with a shiver, for the apparition of my husband had sent a chill through me.
"It is not far now," replied Madame; and then we both became silent, absorbed in our own thoughts. She, no doubt, thinking of the Vicomte, and I with my mind full of forebodings as to what other evil fate had in store for me; and with this there came thoughts of de Clermont, whose presence I seemed absolutely to feel about me. I could not say I loved him, but it was as if he had a power over me that sapped my strength, and I felt that I was being dragged towards him. I cannot explain what it was, but others have told me the same, that when his clear blue eyes were fixed on them, they seemed to lose themselves, and that his glance had a power, the force of which no one could put into words, nor indeed, can I.
It was only by an effort and a prayer that I succeeded in collecting myself; and it was with no little joy that I saw the grey outlines of the Château de Bouchage, and knew that for the remainder of the night there was rest.
I will pass over our journey till we reached the Limousin. Going at our utmost strength, we found we could barely cover more than six leagues a day; and as day after day passed, and no news of the Vicomte came, Madame's face grew paler, and she became feverishly impatient for us to hurry onward; yet never for one moment did she lose the sweetness of her temper or falter in her kindness towards me. No mishap of any kind befell us; but at the ford of the Gartempe, there at last came good news that brought the glad tears to Madame's eyes, and the colour once more to her cheeks, for here a courier met us, riding with a red spur, to say that the Vicomte was out of danger, and striding hour by hour towards recovery. The courier further said, in answer to our questions, that the messenger whom Madame de Termes had sent on in advance, to announce her coming, had never
