“Yes, yes,” I murmured, “I begin to understand.”
“Let me finish my story,” and Richelieu stood beside me and placed his hand upon my shoulder. “The driver was so terrified that he dropped the reins. The tutor seemed paralyzed with fright. The boy was struggling vainly to open the door and get out of the carriage, when he heard a cry of encouragement, and looking through the window, he saw another boy, two or three years younger than himself. This boy was on a horse, which he was forcing through the water. In a moment he was at the head of one of the coach horses; he caught its bridle, and turning his own horse across the stream, compelled the others to follow. Almost before those within realized his purpose the horses reached firm ground and pulled the coach out after them upon the other bank.”
I would have spoken, but Richelieu silenced me with a gesture.
“The boy in the carriage opened the door and leaped out,” he continued. “He ran to the other boy and caught his hand.
“‘’Twas bravely done!’ he cried. ‘I know no one else who would have dared it.’
“But the boy on horseback merely smiled.
“‘It was a little thing to do,’ he said, and the other boy noticed that he was plainly dressed.
“‘But you shall be rewarded,’ and he pulled his purse from his pocket.
“The boy on horseback grew very red and drew himself up proudly.
“‘You mistake me, monsieur,’ he said. ‘I do not want your money.’