She rode toward Herrick, the men about him falling back, until she was close upon him.
"Look up," she commanded, "and let me see the face of a spy."
"Not of a spy, mademoiselle, but of an honest man," he answered, looking her straight in the eyes.
"Spy, spy," she contradicted sharply, "or what do you in Vayenne at such a time as this?"
"I am a traveller."
"So are they all," she cried. "There is a guest-room within these walls for you. Vayenne knows how to welcome such travellers. Ah! I could honor an enemy, but a spy——" And there was such utter contempt in her face that Herrick could find no words to answer her.
As she tightened her reins, her riding whip slipped from her fingers and fell at his feet, and before any one could prevent him he had shaken the loosened cord from his wrists, and had stooped and picked it up. In an instant half a dozen soldiers sprang forward to prevent his attacking her. She did not flinch, but waving them back, held out her hand for the whip.
"Thank you, mademoiselle," said Herrick. "At least you have generosity enough to know that I am incapable of such a thing as that."
She looked at him for an instant as she took the whip, a new interest in her eyes, and a slight lowering of her proud head thanked him. Then she turned the mare round sharply.
"Captain Lemasle, I am ready," she said, and as the soldiers closed round Herrick again, she rode out through the grim gateway, followed by the troop of horsemen.