In another minute a party of about half a dozen horsemen filed up, a spare horse with them, and judge of my surprise and fear when I saw it was Simon himself who led them. As the sentry saluted the Vidame he rode close up to the man, and, bending down from the saddle, said something in a quick, low voice, but it was too far off for me to hear. The sentry saluted again, and began a steady pacing backwards and forwards; whilst Simon, dismounting three of his men, had the horses taken towards the riding-school, he remaining at the gate on foot with his three followers.
"An arrest!" exclaimed my unknown companion, and the words brought the two others from their kid, which they were just sitting down to demolish, to the door, where they were joined by the landlady and the turnspit dog.
The worst suspicions crowded upon me, and from where I sat I watched Simon anxiously, for all depended on his object in being here. He took no notice of the little group observing him, however, but, drawing his men up against the wall, leaned against a buttress, moodily pulling at his long moustache.
"We are going to see pretty things," said the hostess; "that tall crookback is the Vidame d'Orrain himself, and 'twas just the same way last year that he took poor Monsieur de Mailly."
For about ten minutes we waited impatiently, but with no result, and so the owners of the kid went back to their repast, and the man with the lentil soup called for another basin. The suspense, however, was not to be for long. Presently a man came down the walk towards the wicket, coming slowly, keeping as much as possible in the shadow of the trees, now and again stopping and looking around him as though he feared being followed. Finally, as he neared the gate, he put a bold face on the matter, and with an air of unconcern stepped towards the sentry. His hat was pulled over his eyes; but there was no mistaking De Ganache, and I watched with breathless interest. As he came up the arquebusier began to whistle his eternal "Rappel d'Aunis" once more, and the figures near the wall closed in around the buttress. In five paces De Ganache had passed the sentry and was at the gate. In another step he freed the wicket, and came face to face with the Vidame. De Ganache started, retreated a half pace, and then, recovering himself, said with affected gaiety:
"Well met, Orrain! I——" And then he stopped as he met the Vidame's sombre look and saw drawn swords on either side of him.
"Is this a jest or an outrage? What does this mean, monsieur?" And, hand to his sword, he faced Simon, who answered coldly:
"It means, monsieur, that you are my prisoner. Your sword, in the
King's name!"
"I! Arrested! It is impossible! What foolery is this?"
But the Vidame simply held out a paper. "You may read this if you doubt."