“Do you mean the stranger cavalier?” asked Lucette, with a light of mischief in her eyes.
“Nay, Lucette, do not jest,” said Gabrielle earnestly. “The man was punished for his act, Denys. The cavalier struck him to the ground and faced the whole of them fearlessly; and I dreaded for a moment that a conflict would follow, for there are not many in Morvaix who would see me harmed. But a monk intervened then and the danger was averted. Babillon’s body was carried away, and I went with the wretched woman whom I have but now left, all desolate, broken and whelmed by her sorrow. These are ill days indeed for Morvaix.”
“But the men who maltreated you, mademoiselle, can be found, nay, must be found and punished,” cried Denys warmly.
“It is of no matter now, Denys. It is over; beside the cruel wrongs done to the people, my little hurt is nothing. These soldiers, moreover, are but hirelings, and do no more than hirelings’ work. But there is one quest—you must find the cavalier who served me.”
Lucette looked up.
“You learnt his name, Gabrielle?” she asked quickly.
“Nay, for I left the place with Babillon’s wife—wife alas! no more, but widow, poor soul.”
“The cavalier, Gabrielle, was he handsome as well as brave?” asked Lucette after a pause.
A faint tinge of colour tinted Gabrielle’s cheeks as she answered.
“In truth, I scarce had time to see, Lucette; but he seemed in all respects a manly man, a figure of distinction truly. Tall and knightly in mien; his face unbearded and full of strength, yet kindly and courteous; fair in colouring; and his blue eyes, keen and flashing fire as he faced the soldiery, were gentle and solicitous when viewing my plight; his voice resolute with the tone of one accustomed to command; yet tuned to gentle accents, as it seemed to me. I much mistake me if he be not a knight of loftier station than his sober brown attire would seem to bespeak him. A most gallant gentleman and a brave heart.”