Yonder, to the right, a dull
russet patch of sky marked the west, and then in front of us I made
out the hazy outline of the Pyrenees. At sight of them, I swung
round and gripped my henchman by the shoulder.
"A fine trusty servant thou!" I cried. "Boaster! Had you told us
that age and fat living had so stunted your wits as to have
extinguished memory, I had taken a guide at Montauban to show us
the way. Yet, here, with the sun and the Pyrenees to guide you,
even had you no other knowledge, you lose yourself!"
"Monseigneur," he whimpered, "I was choosing my way by the sun and
the mountains, and it was thus that I came to this impasse. For
you may see, yourself, that the road ends here abruptly."
"Ganymede," said I slowly, "when we return to Paris - if you do
not die of fright 'twixt this and then - I'll find a place for you
in the kitchens. God send you may make a better scullion than a
follower!" Then, vaulting over the wall, "Attend me, some
half-dozen of you," I commanded, and stepped out briskly towards
the barn.
As the weather-beaten old door creaked upon its rusty hinges, we
were greeted by a groan from within, and with it the soft rustle
of straw that is being moved. Surprised, I halted, and waited
whilst one of my men kindled a light in the lanthorn that he
carried.
By its rays we beheld a pitiable sight in a corner of that building.
A man, quite young and of a tall and vigorous frame, lay stretched
upon the straw.
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