One in a Thousand; or, The Days of Henri Quatre

by G. P. R. James

"Oh! Beatrice, what is this?" cried Eugenie, drawing nearer to her friend in her increasing terror.

"Call me Leonard," replied Beatrice, in a gay tone; "call me Leonard! till I have got off my boy's clothes at least. What is this, do you ask, little timid fawn. Why nothing but the outpost of King Henry. They will let us pass in a minute."

At that moment Joachim returned, and approached the side of the carriage next to Beatrice, saying, "This is his Majesty's outpost, sir, commanded by the Marquis of St. Real; and they demand to examine who are in the carriage before they let it pass."

"Oh, he will know me directly!" whispered Eugenie to her fair companion; "I would not have him see me in this garb, Beatrice, for the world!"

"He will not examine the carriage himself, sweet girl," replied her companion in the same low tone; "he will know nothing about it. Some of his ancients or lieutenants have their orders for the night, of course."

"But we cannot go much farther to-night," rejoined Eugenie; "and we shall be to-morrow in the midst of his troops. Oh, Beatrice, do not! If I should be found there, the people would say I had followed him."

"What can we do?" asked her companion with a smile, which the darkness concealed from the eyes of Eugenie. "Joachim, show the sentry the king's pass; but ask if there be not a road somewhere hereabout which leads to the little town of Heudbouville. If there be, direct the coachman thither; for we love not to sleep within the outposts of an army, lest the enemy should treat us to an alerte. Gain us the good sentinel's bitter contempt, Joachim, by telling him that we are two cowardly boys, who hold the fire-eating soldiers of the League in great terror."

"We have passed the road to Heudbouville some hundred yards or so," replied the attendant: "but we can easily turn the carriage here, for there is more room than ordinary;" and having satisfied the outpost that no evil was intended by the denizens of the carriage, Joachim, the coachman, and the lackey, performed the difficult feat of making the ill-constructed vehicle revolve upon its axis, and brought the horses' heads back again on the way to Paris. The road to the little village which Beatrice had mentioned was soon found, and for about an hour the carriage rolled on, without any further obstruction than was given by stones and ruts, which threatened to scatter the wheels of the luckless chaise-roulante to the four winds of heaven, in some of the manifold jolts to which it was subjected; but at length the coachman came to a halt, and seemed consulting with the lackey beside him, who in turn put back his head to speak to Joachim in the boot.

"What is the matter, Joachim?" demanded Beatrice, perceiving that some impediment had occurred, and trusting more to her own skill and presence of mind than to the readiness of her attendants, although they were selected expressly for their shrewdness and promptitude. "What is the matter? Why does the coachman stop?"

Ere Joachim could reply, however, there was the sound of galloping horse, and the next moment the carriage was surrounded by a number of cavaliers, whose polished arms, as they rode up with a loud "Qui vive?" caught and reflected the little light that still existed in the air.