every man as your enemy till you know he's your friend -that's what my glorious old father always says, and, by Heaven! I believe he's right. Not but what I go on the opposite principle myself always.' 'I fancied he would join me on the road. He was as friendly as possible. But when I inquired, I found that he had started an hour earlier, and I have not come up with him all day.' 'Singular! If he were really bound for la Preuille, he must have taken the same road that you did.' He may have done so. He started on horseback, and I noticed fresh marks of hoofs-the road is not much frequented, you know-until I came to the last village but one. There they stopped. I was afraid to ask any questions for fear of rousing suspicion.' Quite right. He could have been going to the château only for one of two purposes. Heaven grant he was not a spy!' 'If he were, why should he tell me that he was going? He said so of his own accord. I never mentioned it.' 'Oh, holy simplicity! To worm your secrets out of you, of course.' 'I do not think he can have been a spy. Ignorant, simple-those were not the words for him. Why, he had never heard the name of Alexander!' Impossible! You should have been more wary. He is a spy, René; take my word for it. My splendid old father would have unmasked him in a moment. Why, when he was in Spain, and the troops came in sight of Dulcinea's village and the three windmills, they all began to clap. The commonest French soldier knew the name of Cervantes. And you tell me that an educated young man has never heard of the Cervantes of our own time! Bah!' 'Nonsense!' said René. Dumas is all very well; he is not Cervantes, and not within a hundred miles of him. He never will be. Hugo, now, he has something of the hidalgo if you like; and my young man had heard of Hugo-knew " Marion de Lorme" by heart; noticed that I had written up her name—which I did as a hint for you, my fine friend!-every third day.' 'All the more conclusive evidence that he was a spy. He knew them both, depend upon it. He wanted to make you talk. He saw that giving you Hugo was like giving you brandy. Hugo goes to your head; you forget yourself.' In spite of his fatigue, Lucien was becoming interested in this conversation. Who was the irrepressible man with the hoarse voice and the tiresome father, who insisted that he must be a spy because he knew Victor Hugo, did not know Alexandre Dumas, and was on his way to la Preuille? Why were they afraid of spies? What were they going to do? 'In any case,' René said, 'I told him nothing. But the likeness, of which I spoke to you before, is extraordinary. I noticed it the moment I saw him.' 'Ah!' said the other man thoughtfully, this bench is rather near the house, and walls have ears. Suppose we take a turn?' Lucien ate his supper and went to bed without encountering either of them. 'I wonder,' he said to himself as he put out his candle- I wonder who I am and what I am doing!' CHAPTER X THE LADY IN THE GREEN VEIL LUCIEN came down early enough the next morning, but the two gentlemen whose discourse he overheard the night before had outstripped him. René had not played cards with himself on this occasion. They started, the host said, as soon as it was light. 'Get ready a horse for me at once,' Lucien said. It angered him to think that he could not by any possibility reach the château de la Preuille so soon as they would. While he was drinking a cup of coffee, three other men came in. They were not in uniform, but by their bearing he judged them to be officers. Two of them rode horses of their own, and stopped only to bait. The third was on foot, and demanded one instantly. 'I regret that I am unable to oblige you, sir. Two of my horses are out, and the only animal at our disposal is already engaged.' 'I cannot help that,' retorted the officer. 'I am willing to pay what you like, but I must have it. You can make what excuses you will to the other man.' 'I happen to be the other man,' said Lucien, rising. 'I am sorry that it is impossible to do as you wish. But I am bound to be at the château de la Preuille this morning, and I have no time to lose.' 'Oh, I beg your pardon!' said the officer, with great politeness. In that case I should not think of hindering you. I dare say some blacksmith will furnish me with an old hack. Your pardon, sir.' Lucien sprang to the saddle, and rode off at a gallop. What was there about the name of the château which acted like a charm on all the people that he met? He was within a few hours of it now. What should he find when he got there? Presently he heard the sound of hoofs behind him. Looking back, he saw the three officers riding as if for life. They also were on the road to la Preuille. Everyone who was going there was going in a great hurry. Lucien set spurs to his horse. He was determined not to be beaten in this race, whatever happened. The château de la Preuille! He pictured to himself a mass of towers and turrets clothed in dark ivy, a drawbridge, a portcullis, a withered hag; and further than the withered hag he had not gone, when he drew rein. Stop at the first large gate that you come to,' Mine Host of the inn had said. It was a gate of curled and twisted iron, on one side of which stood a neat little whitewashed lodge, with a row of blue and pink hyacinths in the window. He could hardly bring himself to ask the tidy old woman, who came out like a figure in a weather-house, whether this were indeed the château de la Preuille. However, it is not safe to weigh one's own conviction of the fitness of things against the direct testimony of a fellow-mortal, even if she be but a tidy old woman, and the gate stood open as though it expected him; so Lucien galloped on between the bushes of laurestinus. Several riders must have passed that way before. He saw grooms and stable-boys with their horses as he rode up. There was not the faintest air of mystery about the château de la Preuille. It was a solid, square, comfortable, stone dwelling, built by a man of no imagination. In front of it lay a broad, sunny lawn. The door, like the gate, was standing open, and Lucien could look into the hall, which seemed to be used as a breakfast-room. A long table was laid out with glass and silver, and all the preparations for just such a good breakfast as he longed to make. 'Tell colonel de Nacquart that monsieur Lucien Sylvestre requests the honour of an interview with him.' The servant took his horse at once, as if it were a matter of course, and ushered him in. 'Ah, there you are, my friend of the road!' cried René le Romain, breaking from a group of six or seven gentlemen round the fireplace, and seizing his hand. 'He does not believe me to be a spy, at any rate,' thought Lucien. At that moment a small, stout, bald man, with a ring of thin white hair, entered the room. Lucien was not reassured by his manner. 'Monsieur Sylvestre?' he said, coldly inquiring. 'The name is quite unknown to me. I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance.' The other men, who had gathered round, fell back a little, except René. "Have I the honour of speaking to colonel de Nacquart?' |