Philippe immediately saw her object. The mistress returned in two minutes, and informed them that all was ready; when, hurriedly paying the account, they entered the lumbering but comfortable vehicle that stood at the door, guarded by two rough-looking écuyers, who, in some old postilion’s trappings, had been suddenly raised to the dignity of an escort.
‘And now to Offemont, by Compiègne,’ cried Philippe to the riders. ‘A treble pour boire if you get there under three hours, and without a change! Allons!’
‘Allume! hi donc! hue! hue! ir-r-r-r!’ The traces, long enough for eight horses, tightened; the postilions shouted and cracked their whips; the animals left off whinnying and fighting, and then started swiftly off; their feet clattering and the bridle-bells jingling through the empty streets of Senlis. They did not, however, put out their full speed until they left the town; but then, urged on by Philippe every minute, they dashed on like lightning. But a short way from the gates they met the Valenciennes express, with the lamp over the driver’s head gleaming upon the white road along which they were toiling; and after this the way was clear. On, on they went, as the bare and spectral trees that bordered the route appeared to be flying past them; their very speed counteracting, by its excitement, the depression and fear caused by the journey. Villeneuve-sur-Verberie! they had passed over three leagues. There was a short halt at the poste to change the riders of the horses, and thus divide the work, and they were again on the road, which now passed through forests and along straight avenues of trees, with snow-laden branches overhanging the way. Then came more villages, in which no signs of life were visible; again they were hurrying over the open country, or traversing the wood. But still the same rattling pace was kept up, until they again stopped, for as long a rest and as good a bait as the impatience of Marie and Philippe would allow, at La Croix-Saint Ouen; at the post-house of which village they left their escort, fully satisfied that their horses could be of no further service to any one, for that night at least.
Desgrais had lost too much time at Mortefontaine to get to the inn at Senlis until half an hour after the Marchioness had left. It did not take him long, however, when he got there, to undeceive the landlady as to the real position of affairs. Here fresh annoyances awaited him. The horses, as we have seen, had all been bespoken; those of his own troop were too tired to proceed, and the exempt therefore determined to use those waiting for the Valenciennes express, which arrived a minute or two after he reached the Grand-Cerf. This of course led to a violent uproar between the passengers and the guards; but the former could not well help themselves. Desgrais asserted his royal authority for so doing, against which there was no appeal; and the travellers accordingly were obliged to remain at the hotel, whilst the exempt, and three picked followers, took the horses, and were again on their journey, leaving the scared hostess to recount to her customers, against her will, the deception which had been practised on her.
Nothing befell the party as they rode on to Villeneuve-sur-Verberie, where a relay of fresh horses was obtained at the poste, with fresh intelligence of their intended prisoner. At La Croix-Saint-Ouen they fell in with the two stable fellows left behind by Philippe, and from them Desgrais learned that it was the intention of the fugitives to go to Offemont. Knowing that the establishment of the Marchioness at this place was large, and that several horses were at her disposal, the active exempt foresaw there was yet necessity for the utmost speed; but his companions were completely knocked up; they had ridden in heavy accoutrements from Paris, and although they did not dare to refuse, Desgrais perceived the pursuit would be a sorry business; he therefore determined to go on alone, and mounting a fresh horse, slung a flask of brandy over his shoulders, and started by himself for Compiègne. He was a man of unflinching purpose and iron nerve, and he resolved not to return to Paris until Marie was in his power.
It was between five and six in the morning when he entered a little village adjoining Compiègne, and still dark; but the exempt found the hamlet in some commotion: lights were flitting about the street, and people talking simultaneously, at the top of their voices, in the manner of their countrymen at the present day, as they gathered round some object in the middle of the road. Desgrais pushed forward, and asked the cause of the tumult at such an unwonted hour.
‘The wheels of a post-carriage have taken fire, monsieur,’ replied a bystander, ‘and one is quite destroyed.’
‘And the travellers?’ eagerly demanded the exempt.
‘Have gone on to Compiègne in a market-cart, not ten minutes ago.’
Desgrais put spurs to his horse, and galloped off without saying another word.