The Miller offered no resistance, but threw wide the door, and let the Officer pass in. De Blenau came next, having taken little notice of the altercation; but as he went by the Miller, who held the door open, he heard him mutter to himself in an under voice, “He shall pay for it with his blood,” in a deep bitter tone of determined hatred, that made the Count turn round, expecting to see the ferocious countenance of an assassin. Nothing, however, could be more different from the appearance of the speaker, who was a smooth, pale-faced man, whose look expressed little besides peaceful tranquillity and patient resignation.
The room into which they entered was a large uncouth chamber, filled with various articles of household furniture, the unusual assemblage of which showed that it was used for most of the different purposes of life. There was a bed in one corner, with a large screen, or paravent, half drawn before it. Beside the fire hung a row of copper saucepans and cooking utensils; round about were several saddles, and other pieces of horse furniture; and in the centre was a large table, with two or three half-emptied bottles and some glasses, which bore marks of having been recently used; and at the same time a long bench was placed at one side of the table, with three single seats on the other.
On the opposite side of the apartment was a wooden partition, evidently new, which seemed to separate what had once been one large chamber into two, with a door of communication between them.
“Oh, ho! Monsieur Godefroy!” exclaimed the Officer, looking at the table, and then turning a significant glance to the Miller. “So, you have been carousing, and did not like to let us share in your good cheer. But come, we will not be sent away like a dog without his dinner. Let us taste your Burgundy; and if you were to lay three of those plump boudins upon the fire, they might savour the wine.”
“You are very welcome, Sir Officer, to any thing the house affords,” replied the Miller, neither civilly nor sulkily. “Help yourself to the boudins, while I go down for the wine.”
“They say in my province, Monsieur de Blenau,” said the Officer, placing a seat for the prisoner near the fire, “Qui dort dine, et qui fait l’amour soupe. Now, as we have neither slept nor dined, and have no one to make love to, let us sup, at least.”
De Blenau’s only reply was, that he had no appetite; which seemed considerably to surprise the Officer, who, as soon as the Miller had brought in the wine, and his supper was ready, fell to with no small eagerness, and did not leave off till he had transferred the greater part of the trencher’s contents to his stomach. The Miller seemed more inclined to follow the Officer’s example than De Blenau; and his anger having apparently subsided, he pressed his guest to continue the meal in so sociable and friendly a manner, that De Blenau could scarcely conceive that the words he had heard as he entered, had been any thing but the effect of momentary irritation. But shortly after he had again cause to alter his opinion; the eagerness with which the Miller invited his companion to drink, producing bottle after bottle of different wines, generally denied by their price to persons in his station of life; and the subdued glance of triumph with which he viewed the various stages of intoxication at which the Officer gradually arrived, caught De Blenau’s attention, and excited his suspicion. However, the vengeance, which the Miller meditated, was of a very different nature from that which the Count imagined. Nothing which could, by any chance, recoil upon himself ever entered his thoughts, and his plan reached no farther than to render the man who had offended him, deeply culpable in the eyes of Richelieu, thus calling upon his head that relentless anger which would be much more effectual vengeance than any punishment he could himself inflict.
Two or three hours had passed in this manner, during which time the Officer had made various efforts to resist the fascination of the bottle, often pushing it away from him, as if resolved not to taste another drop, and then again, as he became heated in conversation, drawing it back and filling his glass with an almost unconscious hand, when the sound of a horse’s feet was heard without, and starting up, he declared that it was news from Mirepoix, and staggered towards the door.
The moment he had quitted the room, the Miller approached De Blenau, glanced his eyes round the chamber, and then addressed him in a whisper. “What a moment,” said he, “for a prisoner to make his escape, while that drunkard’s senses are confused with wine!”
De Blenau started at the suddenness of the proposal, and eyed his companion with an inquiring glance. “If you allude to me,” he replied at length, “I thank you, but I have no thought of escaping.”