M.de Rosny not only communicated these matters to me without reserve, but engaged my affections by farther proofs of confidence such as might well have flattered a man of greater importance.
I have said that, as a rule, there was no coming or going of messengers.
But one evening, returning from the chase with one of the keepers, who had prayed my assistance in hunting down a crippled doe, I was surprised to find a strange horse, which had evidently been ridden hard and far, standing smoking in the yard.

Inquiring whose it was, I learned that a man believed by the grooms to be from Blois had just arrived and was closeted with the baron.

An event so far out of the ordinary course of things naturally aroused my wonder; but desiring to avoid any appearance of curiosity, which, if indulged, is apt to become the most vulgar of vices, I refrained from entering the house, and repaired instead to the yew-walk.

I had scarcely, however, heated my blood, a little chilled with riding, before the page came to me to fetch me to his master.
I found M.de Rosny striding up and down his room, his manner so disordered and his face disfigured by so much grief and horror that I started on seeing him.

My heart sinking in a moment, I did not need to look at Madame, who sat weeping silently in a chair, to assure myself that something dreadful had happened.