“It is true; but my men?”

“Are dead, all but one.”

“Are they left on the road?”

“Yes.”

“Have they been searched?”

“The peasant whom you must have seen on opening your eyes, and who is your host, searched them.”

“What did he find?”

“Some money.”

“Any papers?”

“I think not.”

“Ah!” said Mayenne, with evident satisfaction.  “But the living man; where is he?”

“In the barn, close by.”

“Bring him to me, monsieur; and if you are a man of honor, promise me to ask him no questions.”

“I am not curious, monsieur; and I wish to know no more of this affair than I know already.”

The duke looked at him uneasily.

“Monsieur,” said Ernanton, “will you charge some one else with the commission you have just given me?”

“I was wrong, monsieur, I acknowledge it; have the kindness to render me the service I ask of you.”

Five minutes after, the soldier entered the stable.  He uttered a cry on seeing the duke; but he put his finger on his lip, and the man was silent.

“Monsieur,” said Mayenne to Ernanton, “my gratitude to you will be eternal; and, doubtless, some day we shall meet under more favorable circumstances.  May I ask to whom I have the honor of speaking?”

“I am the Vicomte Ernanton de Carmainges, monsieur.”

“You were going to Beaugency?”

“Yes, monsieur.”

“Then I have delayed you, and you cannot go on to-night.”

“On the contrary, monsieur, I am about to start at once.”—­“For Beaugency?”

“No, for Paris,” said Ernanton; “somewhat unwillingly.”

The duke appeared astonished.

“Pardon,” said he; “but it is strange that going to Beaugency, and being stopped by an unforeseen circumstance, you should return without fulfilling the end of your journey.”

“Nothing is more simple, monsieur; I was going to a rendezvous for a particular time, which I have lost by coming here with you; therefore I return.”

“Oh! monsieur, will you not stay here with me for two or three days?  I will send this soldier to Paris for a surgeon, and I cannot remain here alone with these peasants, who are strangers to me.”

“Then let the soldier remain with you, and I will send you a doctor.”

“Do you know the name of my enemy?”

“No, monsieur.”

“What! you saved his life, and he did not tell you his name?”

“I did not ask him.”

“You did not ask him?”

“I have saved your life also, monsieur; have I asked you your name?  But, in exchange, you both know mine.”

“I see, monsieur, there is nothing to be learned from you; you are as discreet as brave.”

“I observe that you say that in a reproachful manner; but, on the contrary, you ought to be reassured, for a man who is discreet with one person will be so with another.”