No opposition was offered to this arrangement, which seemed to surprise and disappoint mademoiselle, who was in the humor to pick a quarrel over a nutshell. So they started two abreast, where the streets were wide enough, and after they left the city limits, Péron rode on the other side of Renée de Nançay, while Choin and his three men followed close at their heels. They rode in silence, and nothing worth noting occurred until they came within sight of Cours la Reine, where were the iron gates which closed this end of the three alleys planted with trees by the queen-mother for the pleasure of her court. As they passed to the right to take the road to Poissy, Péron noticed a man standing near the gates. He looked to be the retainer of some grandee and would not have attracted the young man’s attention except for the pale blue knot on the shoulder of his black cloak. The stranger was staring hard at the party, and Péron gave mademoiselle a quick glance, but she made no sign of seeing the fellow, except to put up her hand to adjust her mask more closely, and Ninon was staring sullenly between her horse’s ears. Péron watched the man narrowly, but he gave no indication of intending to quit his station, and they passed on, leaving him as they had found him.
For the first few leagues of their journey, mademoiselle was stubbornly silent; the men in the rear conversed in low tones, but Péron did not speak. Renée de Nançay, however, was busily engaged in meditating over her own plans, and it was necessary for her to know more about the young soldier riding beside her, and something of his intentions. After awhile, therefore, he was surprised by hearing himself addressed by her.
“Will you stop at Ruel, monsieur?” she asked, turning her face toward him, and he was conscious of the brilliance of her dark eyes looking through the holes in her mask, which effectually concealed her expression.
“Nay, mademoiselle,” he replied, “we shall push on to Poissy, which we must reach to-night.”
“You are a hard taskmaster, monsieur,” she said; “’tis a long ride, and Ninon and I have not been in the saddle since Christmas. Surely, you will give us a breathing space upon the way.”
Péron hesitated. “Mademoiselle de Nançay,” he said, “my orders are exacting, but it may be we can rest awhile this side of St. Germain-en-Laye.”
“St. Germain-en-Laye!” repeated mademoiselle; “why, ’tis but a league from Poissy, and it is five leagues and more from the Rue St. Thomas du Louvre to St. Germain-en-Laye.”
“Yet after all, mademoiselle, six leagues is not a great matter,” remarked Péron; “and I see that you are a fine horsewoman.”
“I will stop at Ruel,” she declared haughtily. “We shall reach Poissy in better time than you will wish for,” she added with a bitter little laugh, the meaning of which he was not slow to interpret.
“Mademoiselle,” he replied, “my instructions were especially directed against a halt at Ruel.”