nothing,” replied the viscount; “it will be time to think about it when we next halt; only have the goodness, should you see a cavalier who makes inquiries about a young man on a chestnut horse followed by a servant, to tell him, in fact, that you have seen me, but that I have continued my journey and intend to dine at Mazingarbe and to stop at Cambrin.
This cavalier is my attendant.”
“Would it not be safer and more certain if I should ask him his name and tell him yours?” demanded the host.
“There is no harm in over-precaution. I am the Viscount de Bragelonne and he is called Grimaud.”
At this moment the wounded man arrived from one direction and the monk from the other, the