Judging the distance which Isabel must have gone, even at a slow pace, to be considerable, Bernard de Rohan did not think fit to pause at any of the first towns or villages which he met with, but, avoiding man's habitation as far as possible, went on till his horse's speed began to flag, and he found it necessary to stop for repose and refreshment. He had now gone on, however, for about five hours, so that it was by this time the middle of the night, and with difficulty he made himself heard in a small hamlet on the rode to Grenoble. He procured, at length, some refreshment for himself and for his horse, but no tidings whatsoever which could lead him to judge whether Isabel and his servants had or had not taken the same road which he himself was following. He remained, however, for two hours, to allow the horse time to rest, and then, once more putting his foot in the stirrup, rode onward at a slower pace.
About an hour after, the day once more began to dawn, and he found himself winding in and out among the beautiful hills which border the Isere. Everything was rich, and fertile, and picturesque, and upon those scenes the eye of Bernard de Rohan could have rested with infinite pleasure at any other time; but now anxious eagerness hurried him on, scarcely remarking the objects around for any other purpose than to judge where he was, and how far from Grenoble. A little after five in the morning he passed through the small village of Montbonnat, and heard with gladness the assurance of the people of the place that he was not much more than two leagues from Grenoble.
After giving his horse a draught of water, he went on his way again through that beautiful district of streams and mountains, constantly ascending and descending, till at length, not far from the hamlet of Imfray, he saw before him a single horseman coming slowly on, the first person, in fact, whom he had met upon the road since he had set out the night before.
When the young cavalier first perceived him, the man was at the distance of some two hundred yards; but it was with no small pleasure that Bernard de Rohan at once recognised one of his own servants, named Pierre Millort, an honest but somewhat weak man, who had been born upon his own estates, and had served him for many years. He now felt certain of obtaining speedy news of Isabel de Brienne, and rode directly towards the other horseman, expecting that the man would remember his lord's person at once. The young nobleman, however, dressed in the habit which had been given him by Corse de Leon, bore not at all his usual aspect, and good Pierre Millort also devoutly believed him to be dead. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that he looked upon the person who approached him as a complete stranger; and, fancying that there was something in his appearance of a very doubtful nature, he drew his sword a little forward as he saw the strange cavalier riding directly up to him, and prepared to defend himself, in case of need, as well as might be.
When Bernard de Rohan called him by his name, however, asking if he did not recollect him, astonishment, not a little mingled with superstitious fear, made the man nearly fall from his horse, and he felt strongly inclined to argue the matter with his young master, in order to persuade him that he was really dead. At length, becoming fully convinced that such was not the case, and that Bernard himself, in a bodily and corporeal form, was before his eyes, he gave him the information which he desired regarding Isabel de Brienne, though that information was by no means satisfactory to the young cavalier.
The lady had arrived at Grenoble, he said, on the very same day that she had set out from Gandelot's inn; but, finding that her brother was not there, and had not sent any notice of his coming to the house in the city where she expected to hear of him, she had taken her departure on the following morning, in order to reach the capital and throw herself upon the protection of the king as speedily as possible. She hoped to arrive at Vienne in one day, the man continued, and had sent him off at once to convey intelligence of her route to somebody he was to meet at Gandelot's inn.
"Then how happened you not to be there last night?" demanded Bernard de Rohan. "Had you pursued your journey, you would have saved me the trouble of coming to Grenoble, and would have enabled me to cut across the country and join her at Vienne this morning. Now she will be two whole days in advance of me."
"And not a horse will you get in Grenoble with which to pursue your way," replied the man; "for that's the reason, sir, why I did not come on at once."
"Had you not your own horse?" demanded Bernard de Rohan, somewhat angrily.
"Yes, sir," answered the servant, "I had; but a sad accident happened to him, poor fellow. I left Grenoble at the very same moment that the lady set out for Vienne; but I had not got far beyond La Tronche, when, the road being covered with loose stones which had rolled down from the hill, my horse slipped and fell, cutting both his knees to pieces. I was obliged to lead him back into the town, and no horse could I get for love or money, till at length I made a bargain with a peasant from Bachat to change with me, he taking my fine beast on the chance of curing him, and giving me this wretched animal in his stead, to enable me to go on my way. It is not, however, an hour since he brought the beast in. So you see, Sir, I have lost no time."