"I ask because I recognised one—the leader."
"Ah, monsieur, I feared to mention his name. He is a great noble, and he—he—but I cannot tell you." And she stopped, with a little shiver.
"You need not, madame. He is Simon, Vidame d'Orrain."
"Yes," she said, and our talk stopped. My cheeks were burning at the thought of Simon's deed of shame, and I put this down to the long score I had against him. And so on we rode, until we passed the skirts of the forest, though still keeping to its edge, and came to a stretch of moorland, beyond which was a series of small hills. We could now hear water running like a mill-race, and from the hills there glinted the lights of a large village.
"That is Richelieu, monsieur," exclaimed mademoiselle, "and the water that we hear is the Mable."
"See there, monsieur!" Pierrebon suddenly cut in, as he arrested mademoiselle's horse, and pointed to his right, where on the edge of the forest we saw lights at the windows of a low-lying, irregular building half concealed amidst trees. "See there!" continued Pierrebon; "that is a house where at least we shall be able to sup and get a guide."
"A guide," I exclaimed, "with Richelieu before us!"
"Listen to the Mable," urged Pierrebon; "is there a bridge? If not we must ford it; and they say the river is deep and dangerous; but perhaps mademoiselle knows the ford?"
"Indeed I do not."
Considering all things, I came to the conclusion that Pierrebon was right, and that it would be wiser to seek the house. As we approached it, mademoiselle said: