"It was, sire," said Isabel de Brienne, in a low but distinct voice, "it was that I feared, if brother and sister should be in the same house beyond the pale of your majesty's realm—in a place where few questions are asked, and secret acts do not easily transpire—I feared, I say, I feared much for my brother's safety."
"I understand," said the king, "I understand. But there must be great objects for such doings."
"Everything reverts, sire," said Vieilleville, addressing the king in a low voice, "everything reverts to the mother in case of the death of the son and daughter without children."
"These, sire, however," said Isabel, "were but suspicions, and perhaps were unjust—"
"Oh, most unjust, I do assure your majesty," said the Lord of Masseran, who had more than once shown a disposition to break in, but had been restrained by a gesture from the king. "Such base designs never entered my mind."
"Perhaps such suspicions were unjust, sire," continued Isabel; "but to speak of facts. I had been forced out more than once to hunting-parties where the Count of Meyrand joined us; and at length, on one occasion, I was told that I must needs go forth with my Lord of Masseran to visit a house of his farther in the mountains. I went with fear, sire, on many accounts. First, the hour he chose was strange, just before sunset; next, my mother was not with us; and next, the train appointed to accompany us was smaller than usual. Scarcely had night fallen, when we were suddenly attacked and overpowered by a large body of men—"
"Was this with violence?" demanded the king. "Was any one killed or hurt?"
"None but some of the old and faithful servants of my family," replied the young lady, "who forgot where they were, and how situated, and defended their young mistress with their lives. One of them escaped, and fled to a little inn for help; but, in the mean time, we were, as I have said, overpowered and carried off farther into the hills, my Lord of Masseran as well as myself; though I cannot help thinking that he went somewhat willingly, for certainly among the assailants there was one, if not more, of the attendants of his good friend the Count de Meyrand. When we had gone some way—a long way, indeed, it seemed to me—a cavalier who had been found at the inn, none other than Monsieur de Rohan, came to our rescue, having gathered together a number of persons sufficient to deliver us—"
"A number of brigands!" said the Lord of Masseran, interrupting her: "brigands, you mean, young lady! brigands!"
"Ha! ha!" cried the priest, "wonderfully good! That bolt was smartly shot, my good Lord of Masseran. But, as you have put a word to the lady's story, I will put another; she says 'persons,' you say 'brigands,' I say anybody he could get. I was one of the number: there were other people from the inn, and the brigands, it is very true, came and joined us; not liking, as your majesty may easily conceive, that the good Lord of Masseran, or any other lord, should take the trade out of their hands. However, we refused no help where we could get it. The Chevalier de Meyrand, who was at the inn when the man came crying for aid, remained at the table with the capons and the bottles of wine, not liking, as may well be supposed, to frustrate his own schemes or fight against his own people; and Bernard de Rohan, with what assistance he could get, set free the young lady, ay, and the Lord of Masseran to boot."