ay too well for that,--travelling it daylight and dark
since I was a boy. I was born in the village below. We shall soon reach
the little wooden bridge, and then, taming to the left, beside Martin
Guichard's--"

"What care I for all that?" interrupted the other, roughly. "How far are
we now from the chateau? Is it still a league off?"

"_Parbleu!_ no, nor the half of it. When you rise the hill yonder,
you 'll see a light,--they always have one burning in the tourelle
there,--and that 's the chateau."

"Thank Heaven for that!" muttered I. "And now only let me pass them, and
all is safe."

The figures before me, whom I could now dimly trace in the darkness,
were descending step by step a rugged and narrow path, where a tall
hedge formed a wall on either side. To get before them here, therefore,
was out of the question; my only chance was by a detour through the
fields to come down upon the village, and if possible gain the bridge he
spoke of before them. Quick as the thought, I turned from the deep road
to the still deeper earth of the ploughed field beside it. My horse,
a strong and powerful Norman, needed but the slightest movement of the
hand to plunge hotly on. My eyes bent upon the twinkle of the few lights
that still marked the little hamlet, I rode fearlessly forward,--now
tearing madly through some low osier fence; now slipping in the wet and
plashy soil, where each stride threatened to bring us both to the earth.
The descent became soon almost precipitous; but the deep ground gave
a footing, and I never slackened my speed. At length, with a crashing
sound, I found that we had burst the little enclosure of some village
garden, and could dimly trace the outline of a cottage at some distance
in front. Dismounting now, I felt my way cautiously for the path that
usually conducts at the end of the cabin to the garden. This I soon made
out, and the next minute was in the street. Happily, the storm, which
raged still as violently as before, suffered no one to be without doors,
and save the rare glimmer of a light, all was sunk in darkness.

I walked on beside my horse for some minutes, and at last I heard the
rushing sound of a swollen river as it tore along in its narrow bed;
and approaching step by step discovered the little bridge, which simply
consisted of two planks, unprotected by any railing at either side. With
a little difficulty I succeeded in leading my horse across, and was just
about to mount, when the