In the mean time his brother remounted his horse in haste; and, followed by Gondrin, and the ten men who had been selected, he set out upon his search. That search, however, proved utterly vain. No tidings whatsoever of Marie de Clairvaut, or those who accompanied her, were to be obtained; the peasantry, in terror of the reiters, had kept all their cottages closed and defended as best they could; and, with few if any of them, Charles of Montsoreau could open a communication, as every door that they applied to was shut, and in general nothing but sullen silence was returned to his application for admittance or information. In the few instances where the sound of his voice, speaking in the French tongue, obtained for him any answer, the reply was still the same, that they had kept all closed, from fear of the reiters, and had neither seen nor heard of any one passing since nightfall.
With horses and men wearied and exhausted by their fruitless search, and with his own brow aching, and his heart sad and anxious, Charles of Montsoreau returned towards daybreak to the town of La Ferté. His brother, he found, had arrived some time before him, and had retired to rest without waiting for his arrival. The young nobleman argued from that fact, that though the Marquis had not absolutely brought back the carriage with him to La Ferté, he must have obtained some satisfactory intelligence concerning it; and, unbuckling his arms, without, however, casting off the dress he wore beneath, he cast himself down to rest in the apartment which had been prepared for him.
Though much fatigued, however, and with a mind and body both exhausted by all the events and anxieties of the day, sleep refused to visit his eyelids. His busy thoughts turned to every painful theme that memory could supply from the past, or despondency call up out of the future; and finding that it was in vain to seek repose at that moment, he approached the deep casement, threw open the window, and gazed out into the market-square, which lay directly beneath his apartments.
The morning was advancing brightly; the spring sunshine sparkling down the principal street, through an opening in which the Marne was seen flowing gaily on, with the open country rising up behind. The little market-cross was surrounded by the carts and litters in which he had brought in the wounded men, and some of the early townsmen were already seen walking hither and thither, while peasants and country-women in gay dresses came in one by one, now driving a horse or an ass loaded with the produce of their farms, now bearing the whole of their little store in a basket on their shoulders or their arm. Most of them paused to consider and to comment upon the array of vehicles round the cross, talking in a low voice, as if fearful of breaking the stillness of the morning hour. The scene was calm, and quiet, and soothing; and feeling tranquilised after gazing at it for some minutes, the young Count again turned to his couch, and wooed the blessing of slumber not now in vain. He slept profoundly, and might have gone on for many hours, had he not been awakened about nine o'clock by the page Ignati pulling him by the arm.
"What is the matter, Ignati?" he cried, starting up. "You seem in haste and agitated."
"Your brother is on horseback, and setting out," cried the boy; "and he has learned tidings of the Lady, which will fit ill with your wishes or those of the Duke."
"What tidings, Ignati?" exclaimed the young Count eagerly. "Quick boy, do not keep me in suspense."
"See your brother, and he will tell you," said the boy. "If he does not, I will. But, quick, or he will be away; run down at once, even as you are."
Charles of Montsoreau hastened towards the door, dressed as he was in the buff coat which he wore beneath his armour; and from the stairs heard sounds that hastened all his movements. There was the trampling of horses, and the noise of many tongues in the court-yard, but above all the voice of his brother, ordering his men as if for instant departure.
When he reached the foot of the staircase, which led into the great court of the inn, he found that those sounds had not deceived him. Gaspar de Montsoreau was on horseback, with his men drawn up in line ready to depart; and a cart containing two or three wounded men, and all the baggage which had not fallen into the hands of the reiters, was in the act of issuing forth through the archway into the marketplace. There was an air of eager and somewhat scornful triumph on the face of the Marquis de Montsoreau; and, at the very moment of the young Count's appearance, he was turning to speak with a well-dressed cavalier by his side, whom his brother had never before beheld.