"That I'll answer for--that I'll answer for," cried Martin Grille, gayly. "Oh, you men of battle and equitation can't do every thing. We people of peace and policy sometimes have our share in the affairs of life. This way, sir--this way. The back door into the court is the best. On my life! if I were to turn astrologer any where, it should be at Pithiviers. They nourish him gayly, don't they? Every man from sixty downward, and every woman from sixteen upward, must have their horoscope drawn three times a day, to keep our friend of the astrolabe in such style as this?"
As he spoke, he rode up to a pair of great wooden gates in the wall, and dismounting from his horse, pushed them open. Bending their heads a little, for the arch was not very high, Jean Charost and the chevaucheur; rode into a very handsome court-yard, surrounded on three sides by buildings, and having at one corner the tower which they had before observed. Martin Grille followed, carefully closed the gates, and fastened them with a wooden bar which lay near, to prevent any one obtaining as easy access as himself. Then advancing to a small back door, he knocked gently with his hand, and almost immediately a pretty servant girl appeared with a light.
"Ah, my pretty demoiselle! here I am again, and have brought this noble young gentleman to consult the learned doctor," said Martin Grille, as soon as he saw her. "Is he at home now?"
"No, kind sir," answered the girl, giving a coquettish glance at Jean Charost and his companion. "Two rude men came and dragged him away from his supper almost by force; but I dare say he will not be long gone."
"Then we will come in and wait," said Mar tin Grille. "Where can we put our horses this cold night?"
The girl seemed to hesitate, although her own words had certainly led the way to Martin's proposal. "I don't know where to put you or your horses either," she said, at length; "for there is a gentleman waiting, and it is not every one who comes to consult the doctor that wishes to be seen. Pedro the Moor, too, is out getting information about the town; so that I have no one to ask what to do."
"Well, we don't want to be seen either," replied Martin Grille; "so we will just put our horses under that shed, and go into the little room where the doctor casts his nativities."
"But he's in there--he's in there," said the girl; "the tall, meagre man with the wild look. I put him in there because there's nothing he could hurt. No, no; you fasten up your horses, and then come into the great hall. I think the man is as mad as a March hare. You can hear him quite plain in the hall; never still for a moment."
The girl's plan was, of course, followed; and, passing through a low and narrow door, arched with stone, according to the fashion of those days, Jean Charost and his two companions were ushered into a large room, from the end of which two other doors led to different parts of the building.
The maid left the lamp which she carried to give the strangers some light, but the greater part of the room remained in obscurity; nor, probably, would it have exhibited any thing very interesting to the eyes of Jean Charost; for all the walls seemed to be covered with illuminated pieces of vellum, each figuring the horoscope of some distinguished man long dead. Those of Charlemagne, Pope Benedict the Eighth, Julius Cæsar, Alexander the Great, Homer, and Duns Scotus, were all within the rays of the lamp, and the young secretary looked no further, but, turning to Martin Grille, asked once more, but in a low tone, how he happened to have made himself acquainted so thoroughly with the astrologer's house and habits.