A bluff grey-haired man, who was standing in the doorway, came forward as we halted, and looking curiously at mademoiselle asked what I lacked; adding civilly that the house was full and they had no sleeping room, the late events having drawn a great assemblage to Blois.
'I want only an address,' I answered, leaning from the saddle and speaking in a low voice that I might not be overheard by the passers-by.
'The Baron de Rosny is in Blois, is he not ?' The man started at the name of the Huguenot leader, and looked round him nervously.

But, seeing that no one was very near us, he answered: 'He was, sir; but he left town a week ago and more.

'There have been strange doings here, and M.de Rosny thought that the climate suited him ill.' He said this with so much meaning, as well as concern that he should not be overheard, that, though I was taken aback and bitterly disappointed, I succeeded in restraining all exclamations and even show of feeling.
After a pause of dismay, I asked whither M.de Rosny had gone.
'To Rosny,' was the answer.
'And Rosny ?' 'Is beyond Chartres, pretty well all the way to Mantes,' the man answered, stroking my horse's neck.

'Say thirty leagues.' I turned my horse, and hurriedly communicated what he said to mademoiselle, who was waiting a few paces away.

Unwelcome to me, the news was still less welcome to her.