More goes on
under that black hair than people guess at,--he can do more than drink
and hunt and make love and jest and swear."
He was in no haste to reach Gascony, he said, and so he intended to visit
a former comrade who dwelt in a village some leagues from my road. In the
afternoon, coming to the by-road which led to this place, he left me,
with the words:
"My name is Blaise Tripault, and should it happen that you ever enroll a
company for the King of Navarre--"
"The first name on my list shall be Blaise Tripault," I replied, smiling,
and rode on, alone.
Whenever I heard riders behind me, I looked back. At evening I reached an
eminence which gave a good view of the country through which I had
passed. Two groups of horsemen were visible. One of these consisted of
seven men. The chief figure was a burly one which I could not mistake,--
that of Barbemouche.
"_Peste_!" I muttered, frowning. "So they are following me into Poitou!
Am I never to have any rest?"
I took similar precautions that night to those which I had taken the
night before. The next day, about noon, emerging out of a valley, I saw
my pursuers on the top of the hill at my rear. Plainly, they intended to
follow me to the end of the earth. I hoped they would stop in Poitiers
and get drunk, but they tarried there no more than I. And so it was,
later, at Civray and at Angouleme.
Every day I got one or two glimpses of this persistent pack of hounds.
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