"Yes, monsieur."
"I want one as soon as possible."
"I will go and saddle the horses."
At these words, the master of the house went out and, ten minutes later, re-entered.
"The horses are ready."
"And the guide?"
"He waits for monsieur."
And, as a matter of fact, M. Berryer found a farm lad at the door already mounted, and holding a horse by the hand; scarcely had he put his foot into the stirrups before his new conductor started as silently as his predecessor had done. After two hours' riding, during which no word was exchanged between M. Berryer and his guide, they arrived towards nightfall at the door of one of the farmsteads which are honoured with the name of a château. It was half-past eight in the evening; M. Berryer and his guide got down from their horses, and both went inside. The farm lad addressed a servant, and said to him—
"This gentleman wishes to speak to monsieur."
The master was asleep; he had spent the previous night at a rendezvous, and the day on horseback; he was too tired to get up: one of his relatives came down in his stead. He welcomed M. Berryer and, directly he had learnt his name and the object of his journey, he gave orders for departure. He himself undertook to serve as guide to the traveller, and, ten minutes later, both left on horseback: in a quarter of an hour's time, a cry sounded a hundred yards in front of them; M. Berryer trembled, and asked what it was.