Bourbon then returned to the hostel, and, sitting down at a table apart from the others, a modest repast was set before him by the old dame. Impatient to be gone, as soon as he had despatched his breakfast the Constable went forth again, and found that the horses were in readiness. By this time the old host had learned who was his guest, and professed as much devotion for him as his son had done.
“I only wish I could attend your highness in person,” said the old man. “But take my son with you—take my horses—and may Heaven guard you on your way!”
“I shall not forget your zeal, my good friend,” replied Bourbon, much moved; “and I trust I shall one day be able to requite you.”
During breakfast, it had been arranged that the party should now separate. D'Herment and his sister proposed to return to their château, while the Constable and Pom-perant resolved to make the best of their way to Vienne.
Hasty adieux were exchanged at the door of the little hostelry.
“Farewell, prince!” said Marcelline to Bourbon. “May you re-enter France at the head of an army! It will give me new life when I hear you have crossed the frontier.”
“Have no fear for me,” rejoined Bourbon. “Rest assured that I shall baffle my enemies. But I trust you may not suffer for your zeal in my behalf.”
“If the king should imprison me and my brother, your highness must come and deliver us,” she replied.
“That I engage to do,” replied Bourbon.
The parting between Pomperant and Marcelline was brief, but it was evident that the former felt it deeply. The young seigneur had already become passionately enamoured of the fair damsel who had saved his life.