"Willingly," replied De Montigni; "but where is she?"
"Oh, at a cottage hard by, above," answered Chasseron; "she has been there since last night; when we had a rougher journey than even you have had. I will send her down immediately by some of my men, who are there at the top of the hill. So once more, good night, and God speed us all to-morrow."
Thus saying he turned away, and De Montigni trod back his steps to the farm, musing over the request that had been made, and the promise he had given. It was not that he doubted, it was not that he entertained suspicions; his mind was too clear and free from that fatal experience, which mingles the dark drop with the brightest cup of life, to entertain one injurious thought; but the responsibility, the care that already rested upon him, was enough to weigh him down. His anxiety for her he loved, his longing desire to remain with her, never to leave her, till she was placed in security, contending with his strong and overpowering desire to be present at the struggle which was approaching, surrounded him with difficulties enough; and now they were to be increased by the presence of a third, placed under his protection for the time, and demanding from any one of kindly and courteous feeling equal care and attention. He could have wished it otherwise: but still he felt that he could not have refused, and he hastened back into the house to tell Rose d'Albret of what had occurred, and to ask her countenance and sympathy for the stranger.
De Montigni found his men already in possession of the hall, with the good farmer busily employed in placing food and drink before them, encouraged to produce the best of his store by his young guest's liberality towards the bearers of the litter; for nothing flies so fast as the report of a generous spirit. He passed through them, without notice, however, and knocking at the door of Mademoiselle d'Albret's chamber, was at once admitted by the farmer's sister. De Montigni's tale was soon told; and notwithstanding her weariness, Rose listened with all that tender interest, which the heart of a kind and gentle woman, unhardened by either the vicissitudes, or the vices of the great world, is sure to feel in the misfortunes of a sister.
"Oh bring her hither whenever she comes," exclaimed the lady, as soon as he had done. "Poor thing, she has suffered as well as we have, and perhaps far more severely, Louis. I will keep my eyes open till I see her, though they are heavy; but if I should be asleep, you must wake me, De Montigni. Promise me that you will."
"If you wish it, dear one," replied her lover; "but these good people will, I am sure, show her every kindness."
"No, no," answered Rose d'Albret, "I would not have her find a cold reception for the world. Oh, De Montigni, what would I have given, as we stood before the barrier at St. André, to have met a woman to speak kindly to me, and tell me to take comfort?"
"Well, then, I will wake you, sweet, kind girl," said De Montigni; "but I do not think she will be long; for he said she was hard by."
Perhaps the lover would fain have lingered beside his fair promised bride; but after a few more words Chasseron withdrew into the hall, and conversed for a short time with the people who had accompanied him from Marzay. Scarcely five minutes passed ere the farmer, who had remained with them, was summoned to the door, and returned the moment after, with a fair and beautiful girl, in her first youth, who gazed wildly round upon the strange faces as she entered. De Montigni, however, instantly advanced towards her, and took her by the hand, saying, "Do not be alarmed. We are all friends."
"Friends?" said the poor girl, "friends?"