"We have left all danger behind us, Monseigneur," said the robber, after having carefully examined the savanna, to ascertain that no spy lurked amongst the trees around. "The flies are all swarming round the flames. There stand your horses--mount, and good speed attend you! Your servant must go with me, for our beasts are not so nigh."
Chavigni whispered a word in the robber's ear, who in return bowed low, with an air of profound respect. "I will attend your Lordship--" replied he, "--and without fear."
"You may do so in safety," said the Statesman, and mounting his horse, after waiting a moment for the Judge, he took his way once more towards the high road to St. Germain.
In which the learned reader will discover that it is easy to raise suspicions without any cause, and that royalty is not patent against superstition.
We must now return to the principal personage of our history, and accompany him on his way towards St. Germain, whither he was wending when last we left him.
There are some authors fond of holding their readers in suspense, of bringing them into unexpected situations, and surprising them into applause. All such things are extremely appropriate in a novel or romance; but as this is a true and authentic history, and as eke I detest what theatrical folks call "claptrap," I shall proceed to record the facts in the order in which they took place, as nearly as it is possible to do so, and will, like our old friend Othello, "a round unvarnished tale deliver."
The distance to St. Germain was considerable, and naturally appeared still longer than it really was, to persons unacquainted with one step of the road before them, and apprehensive of a thousand occurrences both likely and unlikely. Nothing, however, happened to interrupt them on the way; and their journey passed over, not only in peace, but pretty much in silence also. Both the ladies who occupied the inside of the carriage, seemed to be very sufficiently taken up with their own thoughts, and no way disposed to loquacity, so that the only break to the melancholy stillness which hung over them, was now and then a half-formed sentence, proceeding from what was rapidly passing in the mind of each, or the complaining creak of the heavy wheels, as they ground their unwilling way through the less practicable parts of the forest road.