"Why do you call her Bellinde?" queried D'Alvimar, "Is it a common name in the province?"
"Oh! by no means; her name is Guillette Carcot; Monsieur de Bois-Doré christened her according to his custom. It's a mania of his, which I will explain to you very soon. I must first tell you the rest of his story."
"It is needless," replied D'Alvimar, stopping his horse. "Despite your courtesy and the good grace with which you endure disappointment, I see plainly enough that I am a considerable burden to you. Let us go on to the château of Briantes, and do you leave me there with a letter to Monsieur de Bois-Doré, introducing me to him. As he is to return to-night, I will wait for him and rest a little meanwhile."
"No, no!" cried Guillaume, "I should prefer to abandon the pleasures of Bourges, and I should have done so already, were it not for the promise I have made to some of my friends to be there this evening. But I certainly will not leave you until I have myself commended you to the care of an agreeable and faithful friend. La Motte-Seuilly is not a league away, and there is no need to tire our horses. Let us take our time. I shall reach Bourges an hour or two later, but in these holiday times I am sure to find the gates open."
And he resumed Bois-Doré's history, to which D'Alvimar hardly listened. That gentleman was anxious concerning his own safety, and it did not seem to him that the country through which they were riding was very well adapted to his plan of lying hidden.
It was a flat, open country, where, in case of an unpleasant meeting, it was hardly possible to find the shelter of a wood, or even of a clump of trees. The tillage land is too rich there ever to have been wasted in tree-planting. It is a fine reddish soil, which stretches away in vast, broadly-undulating fields, melancholy to look upon, although bordered by lovely hills and strewn with picturesque little castles.
Briantes, however, to which our travellers had drawn very near, had impressed D'Alvimar much more favorably.
Within ten minutes' walk of the château, the land suddenly slopes downward, and leads gradually down into a narrow, well-wooded valley.
The château itself cannot be seen until one is on top of it, as they say in the province; and the expression is quite accurate, for the slated belfry of its highest tower rises very little above the plateau, and when, from the plain beyond, you see it gleaming in the rays of the setting sun, you would say that it was a tiny lantern hung on the brink of the ravine.
Almost the same may be said of the château of La Motte-Seuilly,[4] which lies below the plain of Chaumois, but in a less charming location than Briantes; a dull, flat country, instead of a lovely valley.