But the first sight that presented itself on entering the little hall where their dinner was served gave matter for fresh thought to Edward. As to Lucette, her thoughts had employment enough: she was married; she was a wife, and one act of the life-drama of a woman was over: the curtain was down for the time.
But there, on two sides of the table, each behind a chair, appeared Pierrot la Grange and Jacques Beaupré; and Edward's dinner was rendered tedious by his anxiety to learn from the latter the particulars of his escape near Mauzé and all that followed. While the court laquais was in the room, of course nothing could be said; but the man soon delivered the party from his presence, retiring as soon as the dinner—which was somewhat meagre—was over and the dessert placed upon the table. Pierrot had, indeed, before the man left the room, boldly apologized to his young master for not returning to him that morning, saying plainly that he had been stopped by the servants of the chateau. "I hear, however," he added, with a smile and a reverence, "that all has ended happily; and I beg humbly to offer my congratulations to monsieur and madame." Jacques, in his grave way, and the laquais, with courtly fluency, added their compliments upon the occasion; and Edward felt his scanty purse under tax.
"And now, Jacques," he said, as soon as they were free from the presence of the stranger, "tell me, as quickly and succinctly as possible, what has occurred since we last met."
"Why, sir, what happened to me can be little to you," answered the man: "suffice it I got through a small hole in the lines when my young lady stuck in a large one. I reached the Chateau of Mauzé easily, bags and all, and, as you had ordered, went straight to the Prince de Soubise. I found the whole party there ready to break up, for the Papists were getting too many for them in the neighborhood,—the prince and duke having but three hundred men with them, while the enemy had three thousand round about. Monsieur de Soubise roared like a cow that has lost her calf when he heard that you and Pierrot were in all likelihood captured, and still worse when he learned that mademoiselle was certainly in the hands of the enemy; but the bags seemed a great consolation to him, and he plunged into them for refreshment as a tired man does into a cool river. He took out all the letters and papers, and fingered the gold and counted it; and then he read a letter which had his own name on it, and looked at all the rest one by one. Some he put aside, and the others he returned to the bag again with the money, and he and Monsieur de Rohan, with two or three others, went into the window and talked together for full half an hour. At the end of that time they came back and opened the other bag; but they seemed to have no great love for a frippery; for, finding there was nothing in it but purfled shirts and laced collars and some suits of clothes, they soon shut it up again, and then told me I must come with them, for Mauzé was likely to be turned into a rat-trap. As I had found by this time there was very little cheese in the trap, I was as glad as any one to get out, and we travelled for two days, having a brush now and then with the king's soldiers. Sometimes we had a little the better and sometimes a little the worse; but we contrived to get through all in the end, and we also made three prisoners. From them Monsieur le Prince learned that you had been sent to Nantes and that mademoiselle had been sent after you; and thereupon he proposed to me to follow you, taking with me your money and such letters as he said could do no harm. I was to inquire for you diligently but quietly; and his Highness told me of several places in the town where I certainly should find friends, and perhaps information. Well, sir, I made my conditions, as all wise men do. I stipulated for a good horse, and for leave to go round by Meile and St. Maixens, (for we were by this time at a good farm hard by St. Jean,) and for money enough to carry me there and bring me back, and a little to spare. All this was granted, and I set out. But in one of the places where I was certain to find friends in Nantes, the good folks were so very friendly that they thought I should be better lodged and fed in the chateau, and therefore let his blessed Majesty or some of his people know that I was in the city inquiring for one Sir Peter Apsley, who was soon to arrive. Thereupon I was brought up here with my bag by two archers and an exempt; and here have I been entertained at the royal expense ever since."
"But you have not been a prisoner?" asked Edward. "Pierrot told me you were at liberty."
"You have seen a mouse just after a cat has caught it, sir?" said the man. "I was just in that state. I underwent a good mumbling in the shape of an examination when first I came, and then I was told I was set free because Sir Peter Apsley was under the cardinal's particular protection; but, whenever I tried to go a hundred yards, pat came a paw upon me; and I fully made up my mind that, like poor madame mouse, I was only to be played with till I was eaten up. But at length I heard you were here; and last night I was chewed up in another examination; but I always took refuge in utter ignorance. I only knew that you had arrived at Rochelle in a merchant-ship,—not in Lord Denbigh's fleet, for that they asked me particularly; that, you and I being both anxious to get out of that God-forgotten place, I had taken service with you, as you wanted another man, having but one attendant and a page; that you were neither very tall nor very short, neither very brown nor very fair; that you spoke some French, but more English, looked for a beard with good hope, and were altogether a personable young gentleman about nineteen."
"You did me more than justice, Jacques," replied Edward. "However, you have acted well and discreetly; and I trust all present danger has passed away."
"Ah, sir," replied the man, "danger is always present. Neither you nor I can tell that twelve hours ago you were in greater peril than you are at this moment."
"Good Heaven! what does he mean, Edward?" exclaimed Lucette, turning pale. "What new peril does he speak of?"
"None, madame, in particular," replied Jacques Beaupré. "My father was killed by the fall of a beam on the celebration of his wedding-day. My uncle served under King Henry the Fourth, and fought in ten battles, but died from running a nail into his foot. My eldest brother was a sailor, and saw many a storm, but was drowned while bathing in the Sevre Niortaise; and by the time that I was twenty I had learned that in this world there is no such thing as danger, no such thing as security, and that the only way to be happy is to be ready at all times and fearful at none."