He opened with a turn of the key the door
which stood at his elbow, the door which led to the other part of the
house. He vanished through it. A second later a sharp whistle pierced
the darkness of the courtyard, and brought a dozen sleepers to their
senses and their feet. A moment, and the courtyard hummed with voices,
above which one voice rang clear and insistent. With a startled cry the
inn awoke.
CHAPTER XXV. THE COMPANY OF THE BLEEDING HEART.
"But why," Madame St. Lo asked, sticking her arms akimbo, "why stay in
this forsaken place a day and a night, when six hours in the saddle would
set us in Angers?"
"Because," Tavannes replied coldly--he and his cousin were walking before
the gateway of the inn--"the Countess is not well, and will be the
better, I think, for staying a day."
"She slept soundly enough! I'll answer for that!"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"She never raised her head this morning, though my women were shrieking
'Murder!' next door, and--Name of Heaven!" Madame resumed, after breaking
off abruptly, and shading her eyes with her hand, "what comes here? Is
it a funeral? Or a pilgrimage? If all the priests about here are as
black, no wonder M. Rabelais fell out with them!"
The inn stood without the walls for the convenience of those who wished
to take the road early: a little also, perhaps, because food and forage
were cheaper, and the wine paid no town-dues.
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