The page entertained no suspicion; and--while Walter de la Tremblade hurried to the stable, woke a horse-boy and made him saddle a horse in haste--he dressed himself as quickly as his drowsy state would admit; and then, finding his way out of the room--not without stumbling over the foot of his comrade's bed, and wondering he had not woke him--he groped along the passage till he came to the room whence the light was shining through the key-hole.
"Ay!" he thought, "those lads are still up, playing with the dice I warrant. I should like to look in and give them a surprise; but I cannot wait for that;" and he passed on, descended the stairs, and crossed the court to the chapel.
No sooner had he quitted the room where he had lain, however, than his companion, who had seemed so sound asleep, raised himself upon his arm in bed, and asked himself, "What is all this, I wonder?--'Tis mighty secret!--The book to be brought to him! Why not to her, if she wishes to see it?--I should not be surprised if this were some trick of the priest's own. If all the house were not asleep, I would go tell my Lady. Perhaps she has not gone to rest yet; for she sits up mighty late all by herself; and no one knows what she is doing. I had better go! and yet she may not like to be disturbed, especially if she be dealing with the Devil, as the peasants in the village say. Hark! there are people up and about! I will go and tell her, if she be waking. She can but say I am over zealous; and if it should prove all a trick of the priest's, I may get a broad piece for my news."
These meditations, though short and connected here, were somewhat slow and disjointed, as they really presented themselves, to the man's mind, so that the page who had been sent to Chazeul was in the saddle and away, before they had come to a conclusion, and his comrade had begun to dress himself. When he had managed to get on the greater part of his apparel, however, he approached the door, and like the lad who had gone before, made some mental remarks upon the light which streamed from the room tenanted by his fellow servants, and which was now much more visible as the door by this time stood open, and the rays poured full out into the passage. He looked in as he went by, and, seeing the chamber vacant, took the lamp that stood upon the table to light him on his way.
The apartments of Madame de Chazeul were quite at the other side of the house, so that he was long in reaching them; for, in the mansions of those days, the architects had displayed all their skill in distributing the cubic space contained in any given building, into as many stairs and passages as possible, so that its tenants, unless they restrained themselves to one especial part, might never want exercise in arriving at the rest.
The ante-room door was at length reached; and, tapping gently, for fear of startling the inmates, the man was surprised to find his summons answered instantly by one of the Marchioness's maids fully dressed, but pale in the face with drowsiness, and heavy about the eyes.
"Can I speak a moment with Madame?" asked the servant in a low voice.
"Oh yes, Pierre," replied the woman. "She expects some of you. I thought you would never come."
The man began to fancy, he had made a mistake, and that Madame de Chazeul had really sent the priest to the page: so that he would now willingly have retreated; but the maid continued, "Come in! come in!" and another who was sitting at a frame embroidering, rose and went to the inner room to tell the Marchioness that "Pierre was come."
"Pierre!" cried Madame de Chazeul; "what has he to do with it? Bring him in, however. This must be some other affair. What now, Pierre?" she asked, fixing her keen vulture-like eyes upon him as he was brought forward, and signing her maids to close the door: "What seek you here so late?"