"Who can these be? There must be several!"
They were apparently coming from that part of the forest toward which the Countess had been riding. On account of the brushwood I could not see them yet.
"Well," said I, "we had best keep as quiet as possible till they pass. But they will see our horses in crossing the glade. No, that must not be. Wait."
I ran back to the glade, and finding the horses close together, caught them both, led them down the bed of the stream to where the Countess was, and made them lie among the underwood, trusting to good fortune that they would be quiet while the others were passing.
Soon I could see, above the underbrush that extended to the path beyond the brook, a procession of steel head-pieces, bearded faces, breastplates over leather jerkins, and horses' heads. There were six or seven men in all, one after another. I lay close to the earth and heard them cross the stream. And then, to my astonishment, they came directly along the stream by the way I had first come; I rose to my feet just in time to face the leader as he stopped his horse within a yard of me.
He gazed over the neck of his steed at me, and the Countess, and our two animals. He was a tall, well-made, handsome man, seasoned but still young, with a bronzed, fearless face.
"Good evening," said he, in a rich, manly voice. "So the youngster has come to his senses,—and found a friend, it appears."
"I don't exactly understand you, Monsieur," said I.
"You are not to blame for that," he replied good-humouredly. "It is true I met your young friend awhile ago, but as he was more dead than alive at that time, he couldn't have told you much. How is it with him now?"
"I am not much hurt, Monsieur," replied the Countess for herself.