"Ho!" And we looked at each other steadily. A faint smile bent his iron lips, and, muttering something in his beard, he took up a pen, scratched a few lines, and handed me the paper. I glanced at it, and saw it was an order to give me any horse I liked from his stable. I began to thank him; but he stopped me, saying:
"Show the order to Sarlaboux; and if you take my advice you will choose
Lizette, the dun mare. She will well replace the one you have—lost."
"I well know how to value such a gift, monsieur."
"Here there is a packet for the Queen; but this is not your task. I am going to entrust you with a prisoner, whom you will place in the Queen's hands."
"Monsieur," I began; but he read my thoughts ere I had spoken them.
"Oh, it is no catch-poll's business; I have others to do that. This lady is only a nominal prisoner——"
"It's a woman, then?" And my thoughts went back to mademoiselle.
Could Sarlaboux have been mistaken?
"Yes; and remember that her life depends upon her reaching the Queen, though she does not believe it."
"May I ask this lady's name?"
"Mademoiselle de Paradis, the greatest heiress in Poitou, but a
Huguenot to her little finger-tips."