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Updated: June 14, 2025
Tignonville thrust back the lath as well as he could, and slipped to the floor; and hastily the two swept the rubbish from the bed. When Badelon, attended by two men, came in with the meal he found La Tribe at the window blocking much of the light, and Tignonville laid sullenly on the bed.
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?"
"What is it?" she repeated anxiously. "Who was it?" Madame St. Lo asked curtly. She was quite calm now. "Who was who?" "The man in the wood?" The Countess stared a moment, then laughed. "Only the old soldier they call Badelon, gathering simples. Did you think that he would harm me?" "It was not old Badelon whom I saw!" Madame St. Lo retorted.
Only the horse came on spectrally, with hanging head and shining eyeballs, until a man ran out and seized its head, and dragged it, more by his strength than its own, over the drawbridge. After it Badelon, with a gaping wound in his knee, and Bigot, bleeding from a dozen hurts, walked over the bridge, and stood on either side of the saddle, smiling foolishly at the man on the horse.
But he is not quick-witted. Badelon, also, you may trust. Bear it in mind. Your woman Javette is not faithful; but as her life is guaranteed she must stay with us until she can be securely placed. Indeed, I must take all with me with one exception for the priests and monks rule Paris, and they do not love me, nor would spare aught at my word." He was silent a few moments.
He could not move without pain; and for Badelon, his knee was as big as two with plaisters of his own placing. Count Hannibal stared at the ceiling. "You could not strike two blows!" he said. "Don't lie to me! And Badelon cannot walk two yards! Fine fighters!" he continued with bitterness, not all bitter. "Fine bars 'twixt a man and death! No, it is time to turn the face to the wall.
"Here, Bigot, Badelon, drive me these blusterers! Rid the street of them! A Tavannes! A Tavannes!" Not by word or look had he before this betrayed that he had supports. But as he cried the name, a dozen men armed to the teeth, who had stood motionless under the Croix du Tiroir, fell in a line on the right flank of the crowd. The surprise for those nearest them was complete.
"Alas, no!" he answered, speaking the thought in his heart. "The men who are with him seem confident of his recovery." "Do they know?" "Badelon has had experience." "No, no. Do they know of this?" she cried. "Of this!" And she pointed with a gesture of loathing to the black gibbet on the farther strand. He shook his head. "I think not," he muttered.
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