In the centre of this group was the Comte de Chatellerault himself, a thick-set, sombre figure, dressed with that funereal magnificence he affected.
But it was not the sight of him that filled me with amazement.

For that, Castelroux's information had prepared me, and I well understood in what capacity he was there.

My surprise sprang rather from the fact that amongst the half-dozen gentlemen about him--and evidently in attendance--I beheld the Chevalier de Saint-Eustache.

Now, knowing as I did, the Chevalier's treasonable leanings, there was ample cause for my astonishment at finding him in such company.

Apparently, too, he was on very intimate terms with the Count, for in raising my glance I had caught him in the act of leaning over to whisper familiarly in Chatellerault's ear.
Their eyes--indeed, for that matter the eyes of the entire company--were turned in my direction.
Perhaps it was not a surprising thing that Chatellerault should gaze upon me in that curious fashion, for was it not probable that he had heard that I was dead?
Besides, the fact that I was without a sword, and that at my side stood a King's officer, afforded evidence enough of my condition, and well might Chatellerault stare at beholding me so manifestly a prisoner.
Even as I watched him, he appeared to start at something that Saint-Eustache was saying, and a curious change spread over his face.
Its whilom expression had been rather one of dismay; for, having believed me dead, he no doubt accounted his wager won, whereas seeing me alive had destroyed that pleasant conviction.