CHAPTER XXIX.
We must now follow the footsteps of Monsieur Gramont, who, having finished singing his air of “Malbrook,” put up his fishing rod, gave a look after the retreating form of Bill Saunders, and burst into a self-satisfied laugh.
“So,” said he to himself, “that big brute thinks he has deceived me, and that I am such a fool as to think him deaf and dumb. I knew he was an Englishman as well as his master Parbleu! I will have them all in a trap in a little while, and though the guillotine has gone out of fashion, I can still get them comfortable lodgings, and accomplish my projects at the same time. By-the-by, that girl is marvellously lovely—Mademoiselle de Tourville! Why he, an English naval officer, should pass for her brother is something curious. Take care, Monsieur Plessis, take care, you may be getting your head into an awkward place some of these days, with all your astuteness.”
Having fastened his rod together, he commenced crossing the rocks, through which the river found a passage, by a sort of path used by the country people. Having arrived at the other side where the river disappeared, and where a good bridle road led along the side of the stream to a stone bridge, about half a mile distant, he applied a whistle to his lips, and immediately a man, leading two saddle horses, came out from the thick plantation bordering one side of the road.
“Oh,” mentally exclaimed Monsieur Gramont, “he had patience to wait, though I told him I might not return this way at all,” and then he descended to the road.
The man holding the two horses was a somewhat remarkable looking personage. In years he was rather over than under fifty, with a thick grizzled beard, immense bushy eyebrows, with small deep sunk grey eyes, having a most sinister if not ferocious expression. He was of middle height, rather short than otherwise, and as he walked forward on the road he jerked his shoulders up and down in a most peculiar manner. He was attired similarly to Monsieur Gramont, only instead of a cap he wore a hat, pushed well down on his forehead.
“You had the patience to wait the chance of my return, Augustine,” said Monsieur Gramont, and he joined the man holding the horse.
“Ma foi, oui,” said the person named Augustine, in a gruff, harsh voice, “I might as well ruminate here two or three hours as do so at the château; so as I thought it possible you might return, I waited. Did you see them?”
“I did,” said Monsieur Gramont, “but I saw that my presence was anything but welcome, so I let them return to Coulancourt, without forcing my company on them; but let us mount—we can talk as we ride.”