The fate of their leader caused a momentary irresolution in the men, and this allowed Pomperant time to free himself from his dead antagonist and spring to his feet. In another moment he had possessed himself of Florae's steed, and, charging the troopers, hewed down one of them. Panic-stricken, the other galloped off, but he did not escape. Pomperant rode after him, and being better mounted, speedily came up with him, and by a tremendous blow cleft him almost to the girdle.
The poor wretch had ridden in the direction of the troop, whom we have described as advancing along the ravine, and who were now not far from the scene of action, hoping they might succour him—but he shouted to them in vain. Had they been so minded, they could not have lent him aid, but they might have avenged him, for the victor did not attempt to fly, but tranquilly awaited their coming up. Pomperant anticipated no molestation, for he had recognised in the leader of the troop a friend—the Seigneur de Lallières.
Meanwhile, Marcelline had descended from the heights and riding up, received Pomperant's congratulations on the courage she had displayed. While thanking her for the important service she had rendered him, he added, with a look that bespoke the depth of his gratitude, “You have saved my life. I shall never forget the debt I owe you.”
A greeting then took place between Pomperant and Lallières, and after explanations had been given by the former, Lallières ordered half a dozen of his retainers to convey the bodies of Florae and the two troopers to a monastery in the mountains, and there cause them to be interred, taking care to have masses said for their souls.
The château belonging to Lallières proved to be about three leagues off and on arriving at it, he consigned Marcelline to the care of his wife, and then taking Pomperant to his own private chamber, proceeded to anoint his bruises with a sovereign balsam, which he affirmed would speedily heal them, and which afforded the sufferer almost immediate relief. Lallières then left his guest, but presently returned with his intendant, an old and trusty servant, who brought with him a basket containing cold viands and wine. Having satisfied his hunger, Pomperant threw himself on a couch, and, being much fatigued, slept soundly for several hours, when he was awakened by the opening of the chamber-door, and by the light of a silver lamp burning on the table, beheld his host, who was accompanied by the Constable and D'Herment. Bourbon informed his follower that he and D'Herment had only just reached the château, having been compelled to take a circuitous road among the mountains, in order to elude their pursuers; and he added, that it would be necessary to depart before daybreak, as the château was certain to be visited in the morning by some of the numerous bands of armed men scouring the country.
“I am ready to set out now, for the few hours' sound sleep I have enjoyed have completely restored me,” said Pomperant. “But your highness has been in the saddle since early morning, and must need rest.”
“I need meat and drink more than rest,” replied Bourbon. “D'Herment and I have fasted more rigorously than hermits through out the day.”
“In an hour I shall be ready,” added D'Herment. “I cannot engage to satisfy my appetite in less than that time. I never felt the pangs of hunger so keenly as now.”
“You shall have wherewithal to allay them, I promise you,” observed Lallières. “Come with me to the banqueting-hall.”
“Nay, there is plenty here,” said Bourbon, glancing at the viands left on the table by Pomperant. “Fall to without ceremony, I pray you,” he added to D'Herment. “Regard me only as your comrade, not as your prince.” They then sat down and attacked the provisions with great vigour. Seeing the havoc they were making, Lallières sought a fresh supply of meat and wine, and it was well he did so, for the appetites of his guests appeared insatiable. At length, however, they declared themselves satisfied, and arose from the table.