Their leader was a large,
broad, black-bearded man, with a very ugly red face, deeply scarred on
the forehead, and with fierce black eyes. He and his men rode up to the
inn, beat on the door, and, when the host came, ordered each a
stirrup-cup. When the landlord brought the wine, the leader asked him
some questions in a low tone. The landlord answered stupidly, shaking his
head, and the horsemen turned to resume their journey. Just as they did
so, there rode up, from the south, a merry-looking young cavalier
followed by two mounted servants. This newcomer gaily hailed the
ill-looking leader of the troop from the north with the words:
"Ah, M. Barbemouche, whither bound, with your back towards Paris?"
"For Anjou, M. de Berquin," growled the leader.
"What!" said the other, with a grin. "Have you left the Duke of Guise to
take service with the Duke of Anjou?"
"No, M. le Vicomte," said the leader. "It is neither for nor against the
Duke of Anjou that we go into his province. It is to catch a rascal who
may be now on the way to hide on his estate there, and whom my master,
the Duke of Guise, would like to see back in Paris."
"Indeed? Who is it that has given the Duke of Guise so great a desire for
his company?"
"The Sieur de la Tournoire," replied Barbemouche. "Have you met him on
the road?"
"I have never heard of him, before," said the young cavalier,
indifferently; and he rode on northward, while Barbemouche and his men
silently took the opposite direction.
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