"If you are endangered, why should not I be? This is not the night,
Ernanton, on which you should ask me to leave you."
"Then I shall at least remain here," said I. "Go to the head, Blaise. But if there is a challenge, I shall answer it. Perhaps they will not know us and we can make them think we are friends."
He rode forward with sparkling eyes, although not before casting one glance of solicitude at Jeannotte, who did not leave her mistress.
The men eagerly looked to their arms as they rode, and they exchanged conjectures in low, quick tones, casting many a curious look at the approaching force. Julie and I kept silence, I wondering what would be the outcome of this encounter.
Suddenly, when the head of their long, somewhat straggling line had just reached the junction, and Blaise was but a short distance from it, came from their leader—La Chatre's equerry, I think—the order to halt, and then the clear, sharp cry:
"Who goes there?"
Before I could answer, a familiar voice near their leader cried out:
"It is his company,—La Tournoire's,—I swear it! I know the big fellow at the head."
The voice was that of the foppish, cowardly rascal of De Berquin's band. I now saw that the three fellows left by Blaise at Maury were held as prisoners by the governor's troops. Poor Jacques, doubtless, thought to get his freedom or some reward for crying out our identity.
"I shall wring your neck yet, lap-dog!" roared Blaise.