I cannot say what my answer would have been, but just then I received another shock. A few yards farther along, standing well back against the wall, was a little man, evidently endeavouring to attract my attention. Directly his attempt succeeded he placed a finger on his closed lips, held it there a second or two, and vanished.
It was Pillot, and in my amazement I almost spoke the name aloud. How did he get there? What mystery was afoot now?
Presently the stranger, who had been trying to account for the new expression in my face, exclaimed, "Monsieur then is not a relative?"
"A relative," I answered vaguely, for the unexpected appearance of Pillot had put the soldier's remarks out of my head altogether; "I wish you would not pester me with your questions. I am tired and hungry, and do not understand what you mean."
"I am sorry, monsieur," he said humbly; "I have few friends, and seeing one of them, as I fancied, was carried away. Well, there, let it pass. Time was when Captain Courcy could ruffle it with the best."
He really seemed so downhearted that I was ashamed of my brusque behaviour, and exclaimed, "It is I who should ask pardon, monsieur, but indeed, I am badly in want of food and rest: I have ridden far. Later, perhaps, we shall meet again, when I am in better condition for talking."
"It may be so, monsieur," and, saluting me with a courtly bow, he turned and re-crossed the street, while I entered the inn and was ushered into a private room.
"A good supper, landlord," I said, "the best you have in the house, and while it is being prepared I will see to my horse."
"The servants will attend to the animal, monsieur," he answered; but it has always been a fancy of mine that every rider should see that his horse is made comfortable.
By the time I returned supper was ready, and I sat down to an ample meal, which reminded me strangely of the one I had eaten in La Boule d'Or on the night of my arrival in Paris. At that time, my purse was nearly empty; now it was full almost to bursting—a welcome difference.