"Some seven days," answered Lord Montagu. "And, from what the surgeon says, I judge you will be able to travel about six days after. I have work here for at least that time."
"I trust so, my lord; for I certainly feel my health improving," said the young man. "But I wish your lordship would not take those blacksmiths with you,—though they treated me well and kindly,—perhaps skilfully too: I can feel grateful to them, but cannot bring my mind to confide in them."
"Why, what is the matter with them?" asked Montagu, bluffly.
"I know not, my lord," said Edward; "but they have both bad faces,—a cunning and a double look."
"Pooh, pooh! prejudice!" said Lord Montagu. "They are mighty good folks. Why, they have already cured two of my horses, which the people here could make nothing of. You are sick and whimsical, boy. Now, tell me: how long did you stay at the Chateau of Dampierre? The fair duchess does not mention that fact; but she seems mightily smitten with you."
"But a day and a night, my lord," replied Edward, not without a slight flush of the cheek. "She received a command from the court to retire to Lorraine, and a letter—I presume from your lordship—arrived the same day, telling me to go to Gray."
"No need of reasons," said Montagu, somewhat shortly. "Well, have you heard that your somewhat unkind brother has succeeded in making his escape?"
"No; I have heard nothing, my lord," replied Edward. "You assured me he should not be pursued."
"Not so," answered Montagu. "A few words make a great difference, young man. I assured you I would not pursue him,—not that he should not be pursued; and the Abbé Scaglia, as in duty bound, ordered an immediate search for one who had attempted such a crime in his presence. It has thus far been unsuccessful, and I think will prove so altogether."