Raymond was almost fainting now with excitement and fatigue, but Gaston’s muscles seemed as if made of iron.  Though the past days had been for him days of great anxiety and fatigue, though he had scarce eaten or slept since the rapid march upon the besieging army around St. Jean d’Angely, he seemed to know neither fatigue nor feebleness.  The arm upholding Raymond’s drooping frame seemed as the arm of a giant.  The young knight felt as though he could have carried that light weight even to Bordeaux, and scarce have felt fatigue.

But there was no need for that.  Nigh at hand the horses were waiting, saddled and bridled, well fed and well rested, ready to gallop steadily all through the summer night.  The moon had risen now, and filtered in through the young green of the trees with a clear and fitful radiance.  The forest was like a fairy scene; and over the minds of both brothers stole the softening remembrance of such woodland wonders in the days gone by, when as little lads, full of curiosity and love of adventure, they had stolen forth at night into the forest together to see if they could discover the fairies at their play, or the dwarfs and gnomes busy beneath the surface of the earth.

To Raymond it seemed indeed as though all besides might well be a dream.  He knew not which of the fantastic images impressed upon his brain was the reality, and which the work of imagination.  A sense of restful thankfulness —­ the release from some great and terrible fear —­ had stolen upon him, he scarce knew how or why.  He did not wish to think or puzzle out what had befallen him.  He was with Gaston once more; surely that was enough.

But Gaston’s mind was hard at work.  From time to time he turned an anxious look upon his brother, and he saw well how ill and weary he was, how he swayed in the saddle, though supported by cleverly-adjusted leather thongs, and how unfit he was for the long ride that lay before them.  And yet that ride must be taken.  They must be out of reach of their implacable foe as quickly as might be.  In the unsettled state of the country no place would afford a safe harbour for them till Bordeaux itself was reached.  Fain would he have made for the shelter of the old home in the mill, or of Father Anselm’s hospitable home, but he knew that those would be the first places searched by the emissaries of the Navailles.  Even as it was these good people might be in some peril, and they must certainly not be made aware of the proximity of the De Brocas brothers.

But if not there, whither could Raymond be transported?  To carry him to England in this exhausted state might be fatal to him; for no man knew when once on board ship how contrary the wind might blow, and the accommodation for a sick man upon shipboard was of the very rudest.  No; before the voyage could be attempted Raymond must have rest and care in some safe place of shelter.  And where could that shelter be found?

As Gaston thus mused a sudden light came upon him, and turning to Roger he asked of him a question: