As for the angel, it was obvious of course, that such celestial beings did not walk and would not therefore leave imprints upon the sordid earth; still, even so, Messire Gilles clung to the vain hope that he would see tiny footprints somewhere, such as fairies make when they dance in a ring, and that from the very ground there would arise the perfume of spring flowers when the dew is fresh upon them in the morn.
VII
I may as well put it on record here and now that Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont, after having tramped along half a league or more, came upon the purlieus of the Benedictine monastery of Gembloux, which is famed far and wide, and that after much exploration he did discover a postern gate which was let into a high stone wall. But neither in front of that gate, nor anywhere near it, were there any traces of Samaritans, of angels or of a wounded man. The ground round about that gate had at some time or another been strewn with sand and raked over very smoothly and evenly, after which the humid air and the rain had had their way with it.
Messire Gilles uttered a comprehensive oath. Then he turned on his heel and went his way.
CHAPTER II
HOW A NOBLE PRINCE PRACTISED THE GENTLE
ART OF PROCRASTINATION
I
Now, all that which I have related occurred during the month of February in the year 1578—three years and more ago.
After which I come to my story.
We will leave the subject of Messire Gilles' dream, an it please you; we will even leave that gallant if somewhat out-at-elbows gentleman in the tap-room of the only hostelry of which the little town of La Fère could boast, where he must needs wait for the good pleasure of no less a personage than François Hercule, Duke of Alençon and of Anjou—usually styled 'Monsieur'—who was own brother to His Very Christian Majesty, King Henry III of France, and whom Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont, was serving for the nonce.