"It is well!" I cried to Blaise, as we rode in the bracing air of the
October morning. "We have carried our King's message to every one of his
chosen adherents in Berry. We ride through the province of M. de la
Chatre, breathe his fresh air, absorb his sunshine as freely as he does
himself. You see how reliable were your premonitions when we last set out
from Maury."
"It is not too late yet, monsieur," growled Blaise, whose temper was ill
while he wore my clothes; "we are not yet back at Maury."
"You will talk less dismally over a bottle of good wine, Blaise.
Therefore, I intend to stop at the first inn on the way. I hope it is a
good one, for I am very hungry."
"There is an inn at this end of Fleurier," said Blaise, "but I would not
stop if I were you."
But I was not to be moved from my intention. When a man has finished a
set task, it is time to eat and drink. Therefore, we stopped at the
little inn at the northern edge of Fleurier. A gray, bent innkeeper, very
desirous of pleasing, welcomed us and went to look after our horses,
while Blaise, acting the part of master, ordered a black-eyed, pretty
inn-maid to serve us dinner in a private chamber. The room assigned us
was at the head of a stairway leading from the kitchen. We had no sooner
seated ourselves than our ears were assailed by the clatter of many
horses on the road outside. They stopped before the inn, and we heard the
voices of two men who entered the kitchen, and of a great number who
remained without.
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