"So be it," said the astrologer; "although--"
But before he could finish the sentence, a tawny colored man, dressed somewhat fantastically, in a white tunic and large turban, entered the room bearing in bottles and silver cups. "You have seldom tasted such wine as this," said the astrologer, offering the first cup he poured out to the tall gaunt stranger. "Take it, my lord. You are my early friend and patron; and you must not depart without drinking wine in my house. It will do you good, and raise your spirits."
"I would not have them raised," replied the stranger, putting aside the cup. "False happiness is not what I desire. I have had too much of that already. My misery is pure, if it be bitter. I would not mingle it with a fouler thing."
Those were the only words he spoke from that moment till the whole party reached the neighborhood of Chilleurs aux Rois.
Martin Grille drank his cup of wine, and hastened to bring out the horses. Armand Chauvin drank likewise, and followed him in silence, and when the astrologer accompanied his two noble guests to the court-yard, they found a tall, powerful gray horse held ready by the Moor. Jean Charost took leave of his host with a few courteous words; but the stranger mounted in silence, rode out as soon as the gates were open, and turning at once to the right, led the way quite round the town, crossed a small stream, and then, by paths with which he seemed perfectly well acquainted, dashed on at a quick pace to the westward, leaving the others to come after as best they could, much to the inconvenience, be it said, of poor Martin Grille, whose horse stumbled continually, as horses will do with bad riders.
Jean Charost kept generally by the stranger's side, and once or twice spoke a few words to him; but he received no answer, and through the long night they rode on, even after the moon had gone down, without drawing a rein till, just at the gray of the morning, they distinguished a church steeple, at the distance of about half a mile on the right. There the stranger pulled up his horse suddenly, and said, "Chilleurs aux Rois."
"Here, I suppose, we are safe," said Jean Charost.
"Quite safe," was the brief reply. "Fare you well--remember!"
"I always remember my given word," replied Jean Charost; "where can I see or hear from you in case of need?"
The stranger gazed at him with a grim dark smile; turned his horse's head and galloped away.