“Pshaw!” he exclaimed, “’tis strange to send only a girl—at such a time. Where is she?”
“This way, monsieur,” Péron replied, curious to see the result of this accident, and tempted, too, to confront mademoiselle with her friend.
Ninon opened the door in answer to his summons, and without a word the stranger thrust past her into the room, cloaked and bonneted as he was. Péron followed too quickly for Ninon to shut him out, for he had no mind to leave this new-comer to talk privately with Renée de Nançay. In spite of her woman’s angry glances, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, watching the other two. He was not prepared, however, for the sequel. When they entered, mademoiselle was sitting by the fire, with her back toward them, and she only glanced up carelessly, expecting Péron. At the sight of the stranger, however, she sprang to her feet, and as he dropped the edge of his cloak and uncovered his head, she recoiled with a cry of terror.
“Mon Dieu!” she exclaimed, “why did you come here? I made the signal to warn them away.”
“Mordieu!” he cried in a tone of consternation. “What is this? I was to come here alone, I have seen no one else; into what trap have I fallen?”
“They must have sent a messenger to you,” Renée said, recovering her composure; “you must have missed him on the road. Mère de Dieu!” she added with fresh trepidation, “and they will think you in Paris; and yonder,” she pointed at Péron, “is the cardinal’s musketeer!”
The stranger turned as she spoke, and, throwing his cloak partly over his face, made a spring for the door. Péron drew his sword, and as he did so, Renée shrieked aloud.
“Stop, in heaven’s name!” she cried; “do not touch him, M. de Calvisson, it is Monsieur!”
Péron dropped the point of his sword, but stood firm.
“You cannot pass, monsieur,” he said. He was doubtful of the truth of mademoiselle’s assertion, thinking she intended to deceive him; but at his words the stranger let fall his cloak.