"Then, in Heaven's name, what are you, young people?" asked their companion. "Yours are not peasants' manners, nor peasants' tongues; but let me tell you that it is somewhat dangerous to be masquerading here just now."
"Very likely, sir," replied Edward; "but we shall not masquerade long,—if we are doing so at all. As to who we are, I shall have to explain that to a very high personage shortly, and to ask him if he will suffer his name and handwriting to be set at naught. I shall not show him so little respect as to talk to any one else about the affair before I talk to him, as I must see him, if possible, before I quit Nantes."
"You are discreet," said M. Tronson, leading the way through a street which ran down to the Loire at the back of the chateau. "There, where you see that tall pole and bush, is the Soleil; but, if you would take my advice, you would choose another auberge. That is not fit for your station; and, besides," he added, with a shrewd smile, "you will find nobody there who speaks any thing but the patois des Marais; and I suspect that would puzzle you."
Edward persisted, however, and the next moment their companion stopped at the door of a heavy stone house of small size, the back of which must have nearly touched the ditch of the old castle. "Here I stop," he said: "you see the inn. Good-evening."
They gladly bade him adieu, and hurried on down the street, Pierrot thanking Heaven that they had got so well out of his clutches. "He is a spy, I am sure," said Pierrot; "but, if we order the coach we were talking of, to be at the door by daybreak, we can get through the gates and be off before he has time to get his orders."
"His orders from whom?" demanded Edward, in some surprise.
"From the cardinal, to-be-sure," replied the other. "Do you not know that——" But by this time the three had reached the door of the Auberge du Soleil, and Edward had paused, not at all satisfied with the look of the place. There was an air, not exactly of discomfort, but of loose, disorderly carelessness about it which pained him to think of in connection with Lucette. She herself entered the passage without a word, but she looked sad and, as it were, bewildered; and the sallow walls, the dirty tiles of the floor, and various noises of singing and riot from neighboring rooms, did not serve to reassure her. Edward was at her side in a moment, and, laying his hand gently upon her arm, he said, "Lucette, this will not do. We must seek some other place."
The appearance of the landlord, who now presented himself, was not at all calculated to change this resolution; and, as he was somewhat inclined to be uncivil when he found that his guests were likely to go elsewhere, Edward left him to the management of Pierrot, and turned toward the door. There, however, he found, looking in, a servant in the livery of the court, with two men in military garb; and the former immediately saluted him civilly, saying, "I am ordered by my master to request your presence with the young lady and your servant."
"And who may be your master?" asked Edward, not at all liking the look of the guard.
"Monsieur Tronson, sir, secretary of the king's cabinet," replied the man.