The horsemen now rode up behind them.
"Good-evening, mother!" said one of them, speaking from under the shadow of a deeply slouched hat.
Elsie made no reply, but hurried forward.
"Good-evening, pretty maid!" he said again, riding still nearer.
"Go your ways in the name of God," said Elsie. "We are pilgrims, going for our souls to Rome; and whoever hinders us will have the saints to deal with."
"Who talks of hindering you, mother?" responded the other. "On the contrary, we come for the express purpose of helping you along."
"We want none of your help," said Elsie, gruffly.
"See, now, how foolish you are!" said the horseman. "Don't you see that that town is a good seven miles off, and not a bit of bed or supper to be had till you get there, and the sun will be down soon? So mount up behind me, and here is a horse for the little one."
In fact, the horsemen at this moment opening disclosed to view a palfrey with a lady's saddle, richly caparisoned, as if for a person of condition. With a sudden movement, two of the men dismounted, confronted the travelers, and the one who had acted as spokesman, approaching Agnes, said, in a tone somewhat imperative,—
"Come, young lady, it is our master's will that your poor little feet should have some rest."