on silently for a little while ere he answered this
question, and the mousquetaire could see that he was pondering deeply.
Then he seemed to shake himself clear of his doubts, and said:

"My allegiance is to France. I have sworn fidelity to the king. To him
consequently I belong. If, therefore," he continued, "my fidelity to
him brings no harm to one whom I love best of all in the world"--and
Boussac saw his arm enfold more closely the little child he
carried--"I draw my sword for him."

"Can your fidelity do that--bring harm to her?" he asked.

"It might," replied the other, "it might. In serving Louis, in serving
France, it may be that I put her in deadly peril. But as yet, Boussac,
I can tell you no more."

That Boussac was bewildered by this enigmatical remark he could
plainly see. The soldier had wrinkled his brow and stared at him as he
made it. Now he rode quietly by his side, saying no further word, yet
evidently turning it over in his own mind. And so, as they progressed,
the night came nearly upon them, and had the weather not now changed
altogether and become fine and clear, there would have been no
daylight left.

Suddenly, however, as they rode thus silently but at a good pace--for
the frosted snow on the path or road shone out clear and distinct now
to their and their horses' eyes in spite of the oncoming night--St.
Georges became sure of what at first he had only imagined--namely,
that Boussac suspected something, was watching for something--perhaps
an ambush or an attack.

"What is it?" he asked in a low voice, as the mousquetaire tightened
his hand upon the rein of his horse and, bending forward over its
jet-black mane, peered into the bushes of the side on which he rode;
and also he noticed that his comrade put his hand to his long sword
and, drawing it an inch or two from its scabbard once or twice,
loosened it. "What is it, Boussac?" But as he spoke he, too, made his
weapon ready in the same way.

"Take no notice," muttered the mousquetaire, "ride straight ahead,
look neither to left nor right. Yet--listen. All day from the time we
were a league outside of Dijon--_ma foi!_" in a loud tone that might
have been heard fifty yards off, "a fine night, a pleasant night for
the season!"--then lowering it again, "a man has tracked us, a man
armed and masked, or masked whenever we drew near him--_si, si_,
monsieur"; again in the loud voice assumed for the purpose, "the _vin
du pays_, especially of Ch