"Who--who?" asked Jean Charost, eagerly.
"One whom you never saw," replied Jacques Cœur; and Jean Charost was silent; for although he himself entertained suspicions, his friend's words were quite adverse to them.
"It was well bethought of, Martin," continued Jacques Cœur, after a short pause. "We had better take our way by Beauté. It is not far round, and we shall all the sooner get within the posts of the Orleans party; for they are already preparing for war. We can not take the child with us, for she is too young to go without a nurse; but we can make arrangements for her coming hereafter; and of course that which you promised when in peril of your life had you refused, must be performed to the letter, my young friend."
"Assuredly," replied Jean Charost. "Can we reach Beauté to-night?"
"I fear not," answered the merchant. "But we must go on till we have put danger behind us. Now draw the curtains of the litter again, and try to sleep, my son. Sleep is a strange whiler away of weary hours."
But, though the pace of the horse-litter was drowsy enough, it was long before any thing like slumber came near the eyes of Jean Charost; and he had just closed them, with a certain sort of heaviness of the lids, when the words "Halt, halt, whoever you are!" were heard on all sides, together with the tramp of many horses, and the jingling of arms. Madame De Brecy and her son drew back the curtains instantly; and they then found that they were surrounded by a large party of men-at-arms, two or three of whom were conversing with Jacques Cœur, a little in advance.
The moon had somewhat declined; but it was shining on the faces of several of the group; and, after gazing out for a moment or two, Jean Charost exclaimed, "De Royans--Monsieur De Royans!"
His voice, which was weak, was at first not attended to; but, on repeating the call, one of the horsemen turned quickly round and rode up to the side of the litter.
"Ah, De Brecy, is that you?" cried the young, man, holding out his hand to him. "Here, Messire What's-your-name, we will believe you now; for here is one who has suffered enough for his faithfulness to the good duke. Why, how is this, De Brecy? In a litter--when we want every man in the saddle. But I heard you were very ill. You must get well soon, and strike a good stroke beside me and the rest, for the memory of our good lord, whom they sent to heaven before his time. Oh, if I could get one blow at that Burgundian's head, I would aim better than I did at the Quintain. Well, you shall come on with us to Juvisy, and we will lodge and entertain you."
Thus saying, Juvenel de Royans turned away, rode back to his companions, and gave them explanations which seemed satisfactory; for the merchant and his party were not only suffered to proceed, but obtained the escort of some forty or fifty men-at-arms, who had been about to return to Juvisy when they fell in with the little cavalcade of Jacques Cœur.