As to Mademoiselle Pointdexter, it was an understood thing that she, one day, would be our mistress.
"It is not our fault that we are so late.

Our master's messenger was attacked, near Nevers, and was left for dead on the road.

The letter he bore, and his purse, were taken from him.

The night air caused his wounds to stop bleeding, and he managed to crawl to Moulins.

Having no money, he was unable to hire a horse, and indeed could not have sat one.