"Petit Jean, the smith, of St. Alais, gave orders."
"Thank you, M. le Vicomte," he said, and saluted. Then, touching his horse with the spur, he rode off at speed after the others.
I was in no condition to help them, and I was anxious to put Mademoiselle, who lay in my arms like one dead, in the women's care. The moment they were gone, therefore, we pursued our way, Father Benôit and I silent and full of thought, the others chattering to one another without pause or stay. Mademoiselle's head lay on my right shoulder. I could feel the faint beating of her heart; and in that slow, dark ride had time to think of many things: of her courage and will and firmness--this poor little convent-bred one, who a fortnight before had not found a word to throw at me; last, but not least, of the womanly weakness, dear to my man's heart, that had sapped her reserve at last, and brought her arms to my neck and her cry to my ear. The faint perfume of her hair was in my nostrils; I longed to kiss the half-shrouded head. But, if in an hour I had learned to love her, I had learned to honour her more; and I repressed the impulse, and only held her more gently, and tried to think of other things until she should be out of my arms.
If I did not find that so easy, it was not for want of food for thought. The glow of the fire behind us reddened all the sky at our backs; the murmur of the mob pursued us; more than once, as we went, a figure sneaked by us in the blackness, and fled, as if to join them. Father Benôit fancied that there was a second fire a league to the east; and in the tumult and upheaval of all things on this night, and the consequent confusion of thought into which I had fallen, it would scarcely have surprised me if flames had broken out before us also, and announced that Saux was burning.
But I was spared that. On the contrary, the whole village came out to meet us, and accompanied us, cheering, from the gates to the door of the Château, where, in the glare of the lights they carried, and amid a great silence of curiosity and expectation, Mademoiselle was lifted from my saddle and carried into the house. The women who pressed round the door to see, stooped forward to follow her with their eyes; but none as I followed her.
* * * * *
Much that passes for fair at night wears a foul look by day; and things tolerable in the suffering have a knack of seeming fantastically impossible in the retrospect. When I awoke next morning, in the great chair in the hall--wherein, tradition had it, Louis the Thirteenth had once sat--and, after three hours of troubled sleep, found André standing over me, and the sun pouring in through door and window, I fancied for a moment that the events of the night, as I remembered them, were a dream. Then my eyes fell on a brace of pistols, which I had placed by my side over night, and on the tray at which Father Benôit and I had refreshed ourselves; and I knew that the things had happened. I sprang up.
"Is M. de St. Alais here?" I said.
"No, Monsieur."
"Nor M. le Comte?"