Jehan made a sign of comprehension, which Gilles evidently understood, for he continued more easily:
'Then get some rest now, Jehan, for thou must start as soon after daybreak as possible. And in God's name,' he added with a weary sigh, 'return with the answer within the week, or maybe thou'lt find my body rotting upon the gallows somewhere in the town.'
Jehan shrugged his wide shoulders. This meant that he thought his master must be slightly delirious, else he would never have spoken such rubbish. He took the letter which Gilles had folded into as small a compass as possible, and slipped it underneath his doublet and his shirt, against his skin. Then he tapped his breast and looked reassuringly on his master. Gesture and look conveyed all that he desired, and Gilles was satisfied.
He knew that he could trust Jehan as he would himself. With a final sigh which was almost one of content, he turned over on his side and went to sleep.
II
But faithful Jehan le Bègue did not go to sleep that night. Not until the late hours of the morning did he do that, and by then he was half a league away out of Cambray. As soon as he had seen his master lying in comparative comfort, he picked up the guttering candle and, walking cautiously on the tips of his toes, he went downstairs. Immediately under the stairs there was a narrow cupboard, and here upon the bare boards, rolled up In a blanket, Maître Julien was wont to sleep—of late with one eye open and one ear ready prepared to catch the slightest sound, since his liege-lady, the exquisite Queen of Navarre, had constituted him the guardian of Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont.
Even now, at the first sound of those cautious footsteps, Julien was awake, and when, a minute or two later, Jehan peered into the narrow cupboard, he met the youth's eyes staring at him, glowing with that look of alertness and wariness which is peculiar to small animals at bay. He had raised himself on his elbow, but Jehan could see that underneath the ragged coverlet Julien's hand was grasping a pistol.
'F-f-f-friend,' he stuttered in a gruff whisper, 'g-g-get up. M-m-monseigneur's service,' he added significantly.
In a trice Julien was up.
'What is it?'