"Ah! you must have passed through Vendome while we were in seclusion there."
"No doubt. That Count's business had to be attended to before he got wind of our arrival, and so there was no time for inquiring about you at Vendome. We came upon the Count and a party of attendants in the road, not a quarter of a league from his chateau. As we heard at the chateau afterwards, he had been searching the roads far and wide for his wife, who had fled from his cruelties. He had the daring to resist arrest, and there was some fighting, in which he was killed. It appears that the fight and his fall were seen by watchers from the tower of his chateau, and before we could arrive at that place his accomplice, this Captain Ferragant, who was in the chateau at the time, made his escape. As soon as we got to the chateau, we heard of this, and, as the Captain also was wanted, there was nothing to do but give chase. A few of the guardsmen were left to hold the chateau in the King's name, and the rest of us, with no more than a sup and a bite, made off after this Captain. He had so many followers with him, that he was not difficult to trace, and for two days we kept his track, until we lost it at the edge of this forest. From what we learned at Chateaudun, we guessed that his refuge was somewhere in the forest. That was yesterday afternoon: we at once broke up into small parties to search the forest, planning to reunite at a chosen place to-day at noon."
"It was one of those parties that saved the Countess from the robbers," said I gratefully.
"Ay, and there your story crosses mine. As for the ruffians who attacked the Countess, they escaped without affording a clue to the Captain's whereabouts,—for doubtless they were of his band, though this was not certain. When our parties met to-day, one of them brought a forester who offered to show the way to the Captain's hiding-place if he were allowed to leave before coming in sight of it. We made full preparations, and you know the rest. At first we thought our forester had fooled us, and that the place we had come to was what it appeared, a solitary farmstead in a clearing of the forest. But in such a case, it is always best to make sure, and faith, that is what we did. So you see I chanced to find you all the sooner for not having had time to look for you. But indeed it was a timely meeting."
In about an hour after the time of starting, we came to a clear space, in the midst of which was the tower we sought. We could see it by the starlight before we drew near with our torches. We all dismounted, and with a fast-beating heart, I found the door. It was still locked. Listening at the key-hole, I could hear no sound. I called out, "Louis!" thinking she would understand I had company to whom her sex need not be known. I wished to warn her of our assault upon the door, so that she might stay clear of danger thereby. But no answer came, though I called several times. I was now in great fear lest she had died. My father, who read my feelings in my face, suggested that she might have fallen into very deep unconsciousness, and that the best thing to do was to break in the door forthwith, as carefully as possible, trusting she might not be where there was chance of anything striking. As the place where I had left her lying was not opposite the door, and there was no reason to suppose she had chosen another, I gave up the attempt to warn her, and without further loss of time we made ready to attack the door. All the men in the party, both guardsmen and prisoners, laid hold of the tree-trunk, by means of halters and ropes fastened around it, my father and I placing ourselves at the head. The commander of the guardsmen, who was immediately behind me, called out the orders by which we moved in unison. Starting from a short distance, we ran straight for the tower, and swung the tree forward against the door at the moment of stopping. A most violent shock was produced, but the lock and hinges still held. We repeated this operation twice. Upon our third charge, the door flew inward. Leaving the trunk to the others, I hastened into the dark, close basement, and groped my way to where I had left the Countess.
"Madame!—Louis!" I called softly, feeling about in the darkness.
A weak voice answered,—a voice like that of one just wakened from profound sleep:
"Henri, is it you?—Mon dieu, I am so glad!—I feared some evil had befallen you."
"Ah, Louis, you are living,—thank God!"
"Living, yes: I have been asleep. Once I awoke, and wondered why you bad not returned. I prayed for you, and then I must have slept again. But what was it awakened me?—was there not a loud noise before I heard your voice?—Who are those men at the door with torches?"