"Will not mademoiselle do me the honour to give me her name as well? I am called Bertrand Broussel."
She looked up as I spoke, and a nervous laugh escaped her.
"I am glad I know your name, monsieur; it is one I shall always think upon with gratitude. As for me, I—I am called Diane. I am the niece of Cujus the furrier, a citizen of Tours, who is as a father to me. I was going to rejoin him from Saumur when all this happened."
"Have you any friends near, where I can leave you?"
"Oh yes! Near Richelieu I have friends; and, once in the house of the
Bailiff of Muisson, I would be safe."
"I will see you there, with your permission."
"Thank you! And I want to tell you how this happened. I was going back home from Saumur, under the charge of Olivet, and we halted at Marçay to rest. About a half-hour after leaving Marçay we were set upon and taken prisoners by the men from whom you have saved me.
"Where they were taking us I cannot tell. As evening came I heard your voice singing, and, screaming for help, I slipped from my saddle, with the intention of running towards you. Olivet made a brave effort to help me—but——" And it was only with an effort that she prevented another breakdown.
"Have you any idea who these men are?"
She remained silent, as if collecting her thoughts. And I went on: