“Not I, in truth,” replied Chavigni; though the colour rose in his cheek, notwithstanding his long training to courtly wile and political intrigue, and he thanked his stars that the lamp gave but a faint and glimmering light: “Not I, in truth; but whoever ran him down got a good beast, for he bled like a stag of ten. I suppose they made the curée at your door?”
“Those hunters, Sir,” replied Philip, “give no woodman’s fees; and as to the stag, he is as fine a one as ever brushed the forest dew, but he has escaped them this time.”
“How! did he get off with his throat cut?” demanded Chavigni, “for there is blood enough at the foot of yon old tree, to have drained the stoutest stag that ever was brought to bay.”
“Oh! but that is not stag’s blood!” interrupted Charles, the woodman’s son, who had by this time not only tended the strangers’ horses, but examined every point of the quaint furniture with which it was the fashion of the day to adorn them. “That is not stag’s blood; that is the blood of the young Cavalier, who was hurt by the robbers, and taken away by—”
At this moment the boy’s eye caught the impatient expression of his father’s countenance.
“The truth is, Messieurs,” said Philip, taking up the discourse, “there was a gentleman wounded in the forest this morning. I never saw him before, and he was taken away in a carriage by some ladies, whose faces were equally strange to me.”
“You have been somewhat mysterious upon this business, Sir Woodman,” said Chavigni, his brow darkening as he spoke; “why were you so tardy in giving us this forest news, which imports all strangers travelling through the wood to know?”
“I hold it as a rule,” replied Philip boldly, “to mind my own business, and never to mention any thing I see; which in this affair I shall do more especially, as one of the robbers had furniture of Isabel and silver;” and as he spoke he glanced his eye to the scarf of Chavigni, which was of that peculiar mixture of colours then called Isabel, bordered by a rich silver fringe.
“Fool!” muttered Chavigni between his teeth; “Fool! what need had he to show himself?”
Lafemas, who had hitherto been silent, now came to the relief of his companion: taking up the conversation in a mild and easy tone, “Have you many of these robbing fraternity in your wood?” said he; “if so, I suppose we peril ourselves in crossing it alone.” And, without waiting for any answer, he proceeded, “Pray, who was the cavalier they attacked?”