'Well, then, there is something I want you to do, and attend with both ears.'
'Monsieur.'
'I want you to take the two horses we got at Evreux and fifty crowns, and go back to Ezy. Keep ten crowns for yourself and give forty to the smith and his daughter, and take them with you to Auriac. The forester's lodge is vacant—let them live there, or, if they like, there is room enough in the château. I will give you a letter to Bozon. He wants help, and these people will be of service to him. After you have done this, sell one of the horses—you may keep the proceeds, and come back to me. If I am not here you will get certain news of me, and can easily find me out—you follow?'
'Exactly.'
'Then when will you be prepared to start?'
'As soon as Monsieur le Chevalier is suited with another man as faithful as I.'
'Eh!'
'Sangdieu! monsieur, I shall never forget what père Michel and the old steward Bozon said when I came home last without you. I believe if I were to do so again the good cure would excommunicate me, and Maître Bozon would have me flung into the bay to follow. If I were to go back and leave you alone in Paris anything might happen. No! no! My fathers have served Auriac for two hundred years, and it shall never be said that Jacques Bisson left the last of the old race to die alone—never!'
'My friend, you are mad—who the devil talks of dying?'
'Monsieur, I am not such a fool as perhaps I look. Do I not understand that Monsieur has an affair in hand which has more to do with a rapier than a ribbon? If not, why the night ride, why the broken pistol, and the blood-stained saddle of Couronne? If Monsieur had come to Paris in the ordinary way, we would have been at court, fluttering it as gaily as the rest, and cocking our bonnets with the best of them—instead of hiding here like a fox in his lair.'