d, dashed across the open ground which lay between
us and the belt of trees. Once in the shelter of the latter, where our
movements were hidden from view, I had still to free the horses and
mount mademoiselle and her woman, and this in haste. But my companions'
admirable coolness and presence of mind, and the objection which our
pursuers, who did not know our numbers, felt to leaving the open ground,
enabled us to do all with, comparative ease. I sprang on the Cid (it has
always been my habit to teach my horse to stand for me, nor do I know
any accomplishment more serviceable at a pinch), and giving Fresnoy's
grey a cut over the flanks which despatched it ahead, led the way down
the ride by which I had gained the chateau in the afternoon. I knew
it to be level and clear of trees, and the fact that we chose it might
throw our pursuers off the track for a time, by leading them to think we
had taken the south road instead of that through the village.

CHAPTER V. THE ROAD TO BLOIS.

We gained the road without let or hindrance, whence a sharp burst in the
moonlight soon brought us to the village. Through this we swept on
to the inn, almost running over the four evangelists, whom we found
standing at the door ready for the saddle. I bade them, in a quick
peremptory tone, to get to horse, and was overjoyed to see them obey
without demur or word of Fresnoy. In another minute, with a great
clatter of hoofs, we sprang clear of the hamlet, and were well on the
road to Melle, with Poitiers some thirteen leagues before us. I looked
back, and thought I discerned lights moving in the direction of the
chateau; but the dawn was still two hours off, and the moonlight left
me in doubt whether these were real or the creatures of my own fearful
fancy.

I remember, three years before this time, on the occasion of the famous
retreat from Angers--when the Prince of Conde had involved his army
beyond the Loire, and saw himself, in the impossibility of recrossing
the river, compelled to take ship for England, leaving every one to
shift for himself--I well remember on that occasion riding, alone and
pistol in hand, through more than thirty miles of the enemy's country
without drawing rein. But my anxieties were then confined to the four
shoes of my horse. The dangers to which I was exposed at every ford and
cross road were such as are inseparable from a campaign, and breed in
generous hearts only a fierce pleasure, rarely to be otherwise en