At this Pierrebon, with the freedom of an old servant, began to protest, and mademoiselle aided him.
"Oh, monsieur, could we not rest here for a little?"
"We may rest here for ever if we do," I said a little sharply. "Come!"
My words had, perhaps, too much of command in their tone, for she answered back coldly: "I intend to rest here, monsieur; you may go on if you like."
At this I said nothing more, and let her have her way, but gave Pierrebon a warning grip of the arm to be careful. Pierrebon nodded in comprehension. He was no fool, though many thought him so, and though if his betters drew steel he as a rule let matters lie with them, yet he could be dangerous—a thing which people found out sometimes when it was a trifle late.
We had to wait a space, then we heard the woman's voice laughing once more within. Something in its hard, clear tones jarred upon me, and I glanced at mademoiselle, but she kept her face aside. But now we heard returning footsteps, the grating of a bolt drawn back, the turning of a key, and then the gate opened; whilst Piero, a huge figure, stood before us, swinging his lantern, and beside him another man, armed with an arquebus, the fuse burning like a glow-worm.
"Enter," said Piero; "the signor will receive you."
"Facilis est descensus Averni," I murmured to myself, and led the way, and the gate was shut behind us. Before us lay a short drive bordered with tall poplars, and on either hand a tangle of a garden that had run to a wilderness. As we rode up a woman's figure appeared at an open window, but stepped back at once, and I asked Piero, in his own Italian:
"Has Monsieur de Richelieu returned?"
The giant answered gruffly: "I know not, signor. He who is within is the Captain Torquato Trotto."