When she noticed me, she gave me a look of uneasy interrogation.
She was of medium height, sturdy, brown-eyed, and sunburnt. Her face had a remarkable expression of frankness and good temper.
"What can I do to serve you, monsieur?" she asked, with a half courtesy, which was no doubt due to my poor old pony, and my costume of gentleman-farmer, as the English say.
"It is beginning to rain, madame. Will you permit me to wait here awhile under shelter, and tell me if I am very far from the village of Blémur?"
This question was nothing but a pretext to gain time, and try to discover the Desdemona.
"The village of Blémur, blessed Virgin! but you will never get there before the black night, monsieur, though you have got a famous little horse there," said the fermière, as she examined Black with the eye of a connoisseur.
"Must I follow the highroad of the forest to go to Blémur?"
"Straight ahead, monsieur; one way you go to Blémur, and the other way to the château de Serval, and it is three good leagues, they say so at least, for I haven't been very long in this part of the country."
"Then you will allow me, madame, to wait here under the shed until the shower is over?"
"I can do better than that, monsieur; you will be much better off here in the house, come in if you please."