“We can’t know the truth till daylight,” said Peyrade. “The road is damp; I have ordered two gendarmes to barricade it top and bottom. We’ll examine it after daylight, and find out by the footsteps who went that way.”
“I see a hoof-mark,” said Corentin; “let us go to the stables.”
“How many horses do you keep?” said Peyrade, returning to the salon with Corentin, and addressing Monsieur d’Hauteserre and Goulard.
“Come, monsieur le maire, you know, answer,” cried Corentin, seeing that that functionary hesitated.
“Why, there’s the countess’s mare, Gothard’s horse, and Monsieur d’Hauteserre’s.”
“There is only one in the stable,” said Peyrade.
“Mademoiselle is out riding,” said Durieu.
“Does she often ride about at this time of night?” said the libertine Peyrade, addressing Monsieur d’Hauteserre.
“Often,” said the good man, simply. “Monsieur le maire can tell you that.”
“Everybody knows she has her freaks,” remarked Catherine; “she looked at the sky before she went to bed, and I think the glitter of your bayonets in the moonlight puzzled her. She told me she wanted to know if there was going to be another revolution.”