The chief of Raoul's attendants perceived the disgust with which the monk heard the quality of his penitent.
"Sir," he said, "although he may have been an executioner, or even if he still be so, it is no reason for refusing him the consolations of religion. Render him the service he claims at your hands, and you will have the more merit in the sight of God."
The monk made no reply, but entered a room on the ground-floor, in which the servants were now placing the wounded man upon a bed. As he did so, every one left the apartment, and the penitent remained alone with his confessor. The presence of Raoul's and De Guiche's followers being no longer required, the latter remounted their horses, and set off at a sharp trot to rejoin their masters, who were already out of sight.
They had been gone but a few
minutes, when a single horseman rode up to the door of the inn.
"What is your pleasure, sir?" said the host, still pale and aghast at the discovery his wife had made.
"A feed for my horse, and a bottle of wine for myself," was the reply. "Have you seen a young gentleman pass by," continued the stranger, "mounted on a chestnut horse, and followed by two attendants."
"The Viscount de Braguelonne?" said the innkeeper.
"The same."
"Then you are Monsieur Grimaud?"