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Updated: May 16, 2025
And always Carlat answered, "Ay, by Challans, Monsieur, so be it!" He proved, too, so far right in his prediction that noon saw them drag, a weary train, into the hamlet of Lege, where the road from Nantes to Olonne runs southward over the level of Poitou.
"I did not see him take the road, but he was beside the north end of the wood when I saw him last. Thereabouts!" and he pointed to a place where the Challans road wound round the flank of the wood. "When we are beyond that point, I think we shall see him." Count Hannibal growled a word in his beard, and, turning in his saddle, looked back the way he had come.
There, should be a church, she knew; and there, the old ruined tower built by wizards, or the Carthaginians, so old tradition ran; and there, to the westward, the great salt marshes towards Noirmoutier. The mist hid all, but the knowledge that they were there set her heart beating, brought tears to her eyes, and lightened the long road to Challans.
A trot and then a walk, and then a trot again; and all a dozen times repeated, while the women bumped along in their wretched saddles, and the horses stumbled, and the men swore at them. Ha! La Garnache at last, and a sharp turn southward to Challans. The Countess raised her head, and began to look about her.
The only person who had seen him since his interview with Tavannes turned out to be M. de Tignonville; and he had seen him mount his horse five minutes before, and move off as he believed by the Challans road. "Ahead of us?" "Yes, M. le Comte," Tignonville answered, shading his eyes and gazing in the direction of the fringe of trees.
Nor was Count Hannibal's ear deaf to it. "Through Challans," he said, "thirteen leagues." "From Clisson?" "Yes, Monsieur le Comte." "And by Commequiers less," the Countess cried. "No, it is a worse road," Tignonville answered quickly; "and longer in time." "But we came " "At our leisure, Madame. The road is by Challans, if we wish to be there quickly." "Ah!" Count Hannibal said.
It was far to Challans, farther to Lege more than one day, and many a weary league to Ponts de Ce and the Loire. The men who had ridden gaily southwards on the scent of spoil and revenge turned their backs on the castle with many a sullen oath and word.
At Challans they halted half an hour, and washed out the horses' mouths with water and a little guignolet the spirit of the country. A dose of the cordial was administered to the women; and a little after seven they began the last stage of the journey, through a landscape which even the mist could not veil from the eyes of love. There rose the windmill of Soullans!
Avoiding the Countess and riding with Carlat, he talked and laughed with marked cheerfulness; nor did he ever fail, when the mist rose, to note this or that landmark, and confirm Badelon in the way he was going. "We shall be at Lege by noon!" he cried more than once, "and if M. le Comte persists in his plan, may reach Vrillac by late sunset. By way of Challans!"
An hour later Count Hannibal rode in with six of his eight men, and, after a few minutes' parley with Badelon, who was scanning the horses, he called Carlat to him. The old man came. "Can we reach Vrillac to-night?" Count Hannibal asked curtly. "By Challans, my lord," the steward answered, "I think we can. We call it seven hours' riding from here." "And that route is the shortest?"
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