"In what direction, my good friend?"
"Ah—I am messire's good friend now!—the way to Ameldroyen."
"Among the forests?" said Gray, with increasing alarm.
"Exactly, messire."
It seemed most unaccountable that Murielle should anticipate the evening fixed by the abbot, and appoint a wayside auberge as a place of meeting; but the presence of her betrothal ring could not be doubted; and she was in danger, or tribulation, as this apparently suave and honest fellow admitted. What lover could linger or doubt?
"You will come, messire?" entreated Carl.
"Come—instantly! my sword and cloak——"
"Nay, messire, I have the honour to mention," said the sleek Carl, "that mademoiselle does not expect you until the cathedral bells have rung the hour of nine, and when the lamps are hung in the spire."
To Gray this information was more perplexing than ever.
"Near the auberge," continued Carl, "is a stone cross, one hundred paces to the right of the road, where a votive lamp burns—there she will meet you."