CHAPTER IV.
THE CHÂTEAU DES PIERRETTES.
“Nous y voici!”
The carriage pulled back with a jerk, so that the prisoner Michel, who sat opposite us, was almost thrown into our laps. One of our grimy escort appeared at the window.
“Dog of a thief!” he growled. “Is this the turning?”
The other sacréd below his breath and nodded sullenly. A vast chestnut (the thick of its butt must have been thirty feet in circumference) stood at the entrance to a narrow lane. Turning, with a worrying of wheels, down the latter, we continued our journey.
Southwards from Coutras we had broken into a plat of country very wild and sterile; but now we were amongst trees again—oak, chestnut, and walnut—that thronged the damp hollows and flung themselves over the low hills in irresistible battalions.
Suddenly Michel bent forward and touched my companion’s knee menacingly. The rascal was near restored to himself, and his lowering eyes were full of gloom.
“The treasure, monsieur,” he said; “is that the condition of my liberty?”
“I have said—discover it to me and thou shalt go free.”
“But I, monsieur, I also must make a condition.”