"Can I not go to him at Mantes?" cried Helen; "I could tell him all, and be back very soon."
Estoc paused, and thought. "Not before we set out," he replied. "It's along way to Mantes, my dear. If you do, you must join us by the way. But how am I to get you thither, and back again?"
"Oh, I am a poor friendless creature," cried Helen de la Tremblade, "it matters not what becomes of me. I do not think any one would injure me, but that cruel woman; and she is far away."
"No, you are not friendless," exclaimed Estoc warmly; "and never shall be while I live. No, I cannot let you go alone; but I can send two of my old fellows with you, who will take care that no one does you wrong. Perhaps there may be some bands too going down, and if I could find any stout old leader whom I know, he would take care of you. I will go up to the village and see; for it would be a great thing, indeed, if you could let Monsieur de Chasseron know all that has happened.--He might help us--he might help us, though I don't know if he has the power."
"I am sure he will if he can," cried Helen; "for he has a kind and generous heart, as I have good cause to say."
"Well, I will go, I will go," replied Estoc. "At all events, you shall have two men to go with you. Old Jaunaye and Longeau, they shall be the men. They are of the good old stuff, out of which we used to make soldiers in my young days; none of the coxcombs that we have at present. But, you get ready to go, and I will be back in half an hour. My horse is saddled at the door."
Thus saying, he departed, and, in less time than he had mentioned, returned, with an eager air, exclaiming, "Quick, quick, Mademoiselle Helen; here is the band of the old Count de Ligones, just marching this moment, and you can easily come up with them. I saw him and told him, and he says he will take care of you. But you shall have Jaunaye and the Longeau, to bring you across to us to-morrow. You can easily catch us up, either at Tremblaye, or Châteauneuf, for we must needs go slow. The men are ready."
"And so am I," answered Helen, "but how am I to find Monsieur de Chasseron in all the bustle and confusion of the court?"
"True," said Estoc, thoughtfully; "you may have some trouble. I will tell you what," he continued; "here, write down upon a piece of paper the gentleman's name, and send it into Monsieur de Biron. He is an old friend of Chasseron's, I think, and will bring him to you."
Pen and ink were soon procured, the name written down, and Helen de la Tremblade covering herself with the thick veil which Rose d'Albret had left behind--for she herself had been driven forth all unprepared--went out, and with the assistance of Estoc, mounted a pillion behind one of the men. After riding for about three miles, they overtook the band of the Count de Ligones, an old soldier of near seventy years of age. He was hearty and gay, however, and would fain have entertained his fair companion for the rest of the way, with many a jest, and many a tale; but Helen, as the reader may suppose, remained grave and sad, answering his questions by a monosyllable, and listening to his jokes without reply.