Lucilio overtook the horse, grasped his little rider by the collar of his jacket, and tossed him to the bank, into the arms of his mother, who had followed the changing scenes of this little drama, running by the stream and shrieking.
Then he calmly returned to the too simple-minded Squilindre, who was making a desperate assault on the dam at the pond, and, forcing him to turn back, delivered him safe and sound to the frantic coachman.
The whole house had been attracted by the Moorish woman's shrieks, and they were deeply moved to see her, weeping copiously the while, hug Lucilio's knees and speak earnestly to him in Arabic, greatly surprised that he did not say a word to her in reply, although he seemed to understand the language, and did in fact understand it perfectly.
The marquis embraced Lucilio, saying to him in an undertone:
"Ah! my poor friend! for a man who has suffered at the hands of the torturer, even to the very marrow of his bones, you are a sturdy swimmer! God, who knows that you live only to do good, has deigned to perform miracles in your person. Now go at once and change everything, and do you, Adamas, see that yonder little devil is thoroughly dried and warmed; he seems no more frightened than if he were just out of bed. I wish you to bring him to me with his mother, after my breakfast; so make them as clean as you can. Why, where has Monsieur de Villareal gone?"
The pretended Villareal had returned to the château, and was praying, alone in his room, to the revengeful God in whom he believed, not to punish him too severely for the eagerness with which he had, without just cause, longed for the little gypsy's death.
We give the child this title, following the example of the servants of the château, by whom he was surrounded at that moment; but when, after his repast, Monsieur de Bois-Doré betook himself to an ancient apartment of his castle, which Adamas dignified with the title of salle des audiences, and sometimes of salle de justice; when that old minister of the interior to the marquis introduced the Moorish woman and her child, the marquis's first words, after a moment of impressive silence, were these:
"The more I look at this little fellow, the more certain I feel that he is neither Egyptian nor Moor, but rather a Spaniard of good family, perhaps of French blood."
It was not necessary to be a magician to make that discovery; nevertheless it was listened to with great respect by Adamas, who, in his capacity of introducer, remained at the conference. Monsieur d'Alvimar and Lucilio had been invited by the marquis to be present.
"See," continued Bois-Doré, with ingenuous pride in his own penetration, putting aside the child's coarse white shirt, "his face is sun-burned, but no more than our peasants are in harvest-time; his neck is as white as snow, and he has feet and hands so small that serf or villein never could show the like. Come, my little imp, be not ashamed; and, as I am told that you understand French, answer our questions. What is your name?"