With the falling of darkness I slackened my pace, riding carefully, listening for any unusual sounds, and peering into the gloom. I had not forgotten my former adventure, but nothing untoward happened, and shortly after midnight I drew rein at the gate of the town.
"Your business?" exclaimed the officer of the guard.
"I am from Rochelle, with a despatch for your commandant."
"From the Prince?"
"From the Admiral—it is all one."
The gate was opened, and, having dismounted, I led my horse forward by the bridle.
"You have had a dark ride, monsieur."
"But a safe one," I answered, laughing. "Where is the commandant to be found? He will not feel well pleased at being wakened from his sleep."
"Ah, you do not know him! He is like the owl, and sleeps only in the daylight. At other times he watches; he is going the rounds now, and will be with us in a few minutes. It will need a craftier leader than Anjou to take Saint Jean d'Angely by surprise! Ah, here is the commandant!"
A veteran soldier, with white moustaches, white hair, and grizzled beard! A strongly-built man of middle height, with resolute, determined face, and an air that betokened long years of command.