“Monsieur,” said the peasant, “were they Catholics or Huguenots?”

“Huguenots,” said Ernanton, who had seen the peasant cross himself in his first terror.

“In that case there will be no harm in my searching them, will there?”

“None,” replied Ernanton, who thought it as well that the peasant should do it, as the first passer-by.  The man did not wait to be told twice, but turned out their pockets.  It seemed that he was far from disappointed, for his face looked smiling when he had finished the operation, and he drove on his oxen at their quickest pace, in order to reach his home with his treasure.

It was in the stable of this excellent Catholic, on a bed of straw, that M. de Mayenne recovered his consciousness.  He opened his eyes, and looked at the men and the things surrounding him with a surprise easy to imagine.  Ernanton immediately dismissed the peasant.

“Who are you, monsieur?” asked Mayenne.

Ernanton smiled.

“Do you not recognize me?” said he.

“Yes, I do now; you are he who came to the assistance of my enemy.”

“Yes, but I am he who prevented your enemy from killing you.”

“That must be true, since I live; unless, indeed, he thought me dead.”

“He went away knowing you to be alive.”

“Then he thought my wound mortal.”

“I do not know; but had I not opposed him, he would have given you one which certainly would have been so.”

“But then, monsieur, why did you aid him in killing my men?”

“Nothing more simple, monsieur; and I am astonished that a gentleman, as you seem to be, does not understand my conduct.  Chance brought me on your road, and I saw several men attacking one; I defended the one, but when this brave man—­for whoever he may be, he is brave—­when he remained alone with you, and would have decided the victory by your death, then I interfered to save you.”

“You know me, then?” said Mayenne, with a scrutinizing glance.

“I had no need to know you, monsieur; you were a wounded man, that was enough.”

“Be frank; you knew me?”

“It is strange, monsieur, that you will not understand me.  It seems to me that it is equally ignoble to kill a defenseless man, as six men to attack one.”

“There may be reasons for all things.”

Ernanton bowed, but did not reply.

“Did you not see,” continued Mayenne, “that I fought sword to sword with that man?”

“It is true.”

“Besides, he is my most mortal enemy.”

“I believe it, for he said the same thing of you.”

“Do you think me dangerously wounded?”

“I have examined your wound, monsieur, and I think that, although it is serious, you are in no danger of death.  I believe the sword slipped along the ribs, and did not penetrate the breast.  Breathe, and I think you will find no pain in the lungs.”