"Good. I should like—— Who is in command of the town?"
"There is a new one since yesterday. He has just come down from Paris, the King sent——"
At that instant the gruff voice of the subaltern in command of the detachment at the gate rang out.
"Turn out the guard for the Commanding Officer."
"Back, monsieur," cried the soldier, falling into line with his comrades, who came running from the guard-house and ranged themselves in order.
Marteau stepped back into the shadow of the gate, just as a carriage and four, carrying three people and attended by a brilliant cavalry escort, dashed through the narrow street of the town and passed out of the gate, the soldiers of the guard standing at attention in line and presenting arms as the carriage and its following went on into the country by the highroad. The horses had been moving at a fast trot. Marteau had time for but one glance as the vehicle passed. One glance was enough. When the guard had been dismissed and the soldier on post turned again to look at the officer, he was astonished at the change that had come over him. Marteau, pale as death, leaned against the wall, his hand on his heart.
"What's the matter?" cried the soldier, staring at him curiously.
"Has monsieur seen a ghost?" asked young Pierre, running toward him in great anxiety.
"Who—who was that?" asked Marteau, who had received a dreadful shock apparently.
"The governor of the town."