I was right. We had not to wait long. He WAS going. In another
moment he came out himself, riding a strong iron-grey horse: and we
could see that he had holsters to his saddle. His steward was running
beside him, to take I suppose his last orders. A cripple, whom the
bustle had attracted from his usual haunt, the church porch, held up
his hand for alms. The Vidame as he passed, cut him savagely across
the face with his whip, and cursed him audibly.

"May the devil take him!" exclaimed Croisette in just rage. But I
said nothing, remembering that the cripple was a particular pet of
Catherine's. I thought instead of an occasion, not so very long ago,
when the Vicomte being at home, we had had a great hawking party.
Bezers and Catherine had ridden up the street together, and Catherine
giving the cripple a piece of money, Bezers had flung to him all his
share of the game. And my heart sank.

Only for a moment, however. The man was gone; or was going at any
rate. We stood silent and motionless, all watching, until, after what
seemed a long interval, the little party of seven became visible on the
white road far below us--to the northward, and moving in that
direction. Still we watched them, muttering a word to one another, now
and again, until presently the riders slackened their pace, and began
to ascend the winding track that led to the hills and Cahors; and to
Paris also, if one went far enough.

Then at length with a loud "Whoop!" we dashed across the terrace,
Croisette leading, and so through the courtyard to the parlour; where
we arrived breathless. "He is off!" Croisette cried shrilly. "He has
started for Paris! And bad luck go with him!" And we all flung up our
caps and shouted.

But no answer, such as we expected, came from the women folk. When we
picked up our caps, and looked at Catherine, feeling rather foolish,
she was staring at us with a white face and great scornful eyes.
"Fools!" she said. "Fools!"

And that was all. But it was enough to take me aback. I had looked to
see her face lighten at our news; instead it wore an expression I had
never seen on it before. Catherine, so kind and gentle, calling us
fools! And without cause! I did not understand it. I turned
confusedly to Croisette. He was looking at her, and I saw that he was
frightened. As for Madame Claude, she was crying in the corner. A
presentiment of evil made my heart sink like lead. What had happened?

"Fools