"In what fight with the watch did you get that?" inquired François.
"I got it as the Duke of Guise got his, fighting the enemies of the church, though not in the same battle. I received mine that St. Bartholomew's night when we made the streets of Paris flow with heretic blood. A cursed Huguenot gave it me, but I gave him another to match mine, and left him for the crowd to trample over."
I gave a start, recalling the incident of which I had so recently heard the account, and which seemed the counterpart of this.
At this moment, Marianne appeared at the bend of the road. She carried a huge wooden platter, on which were a bowl of mulled wine, some mugs, and some cheese, bread, and scraps of cold meat. I afterward learned that she had begun to prepare this wine some time before, thinking that I and Blaise and the boys would want it after my return from my search for Pierre. Knowing Blaise's capacity, she had made ready so great a quantity.
Saying not a word, she set down the platter on the ground before me.
"That is well," I said. "Now go back to the inn and step often to the door, so that I can easily summon you again without attracting the attention of the others. And get more wine ready."
The woman nodded, and went back to the inn.
The four ruffians made an immediate onslaught on the platter. De Berquin and François ignored the food, that they might the sooner dip their mugs into the bowl of wine. The other three speedily disposed of all the eatables, and then joined in the drinking. De Berquin, in order to grasp his mug, had let my arm go, but he retained his dagger in his other hand, and each of his followers used but one hand in eating or drinking, holding a weapon in the other.
"Look you, rascals!" said De Berquin to his men, presently. "Be careful to keep your wits about you!"
"Rascals!" repeated the tall fellow, his pride awakened by his second mug of wine. "By the bones of my ancestors, it goes against me to be so often called rascal!"