‘What of that?’ the stranger exclaimed, spurring his horse so as still to bar the way. ‘Why, only this, that you must be a madman to show yourself on this side of the Loire.’ ‘It is long since I have seen the other,’ was my companion’s unmoved answer. ‘You are M. de Rosny? You do not deny it?’ the man cried in astonishment. ‘Certainly I do not deny it,’ M. de Rosny answered bluntly. ‘And more, the day has been, sir,’ he continued with sudden fire, ‘when few at his Majesty’s Court would have dared to chop words with Solomon de Bethune, much less to stop him on the highway within a mile of the palace. But times are changed with me, sir, and it would seem with others also, if true men rallying to his Majesty in his need are to be challenged by every passer on the road.’ ‘What! Are you Solomon de Bethune?’ the man cried incredulously. Incredulously, but his countenance fell, and his voice was full of chagrin and disappointment, ‘Who else, sir?’ M. de Rosny replied haughtily. ‘I am, and, as far as I know, I have as much right on this side of the Loire as any other man.’ ‘A thousand pardons.’ ‘If you are not satisfied--’ ‘Nay, M. de Rosny, I am perfectly satisfied.’ The stranger repented this with a very crestfallen air, adding, ‘A thousand pardons’; and fell to making other apologies, doffing his hat with great respect. ‘I took you, if you will pardon me saying so, for your Huguenot brother, M. Maximilian,’ he explained. ‘The saying goes that he is at Rosny.’ ‘I can answer for that being false,’ M. de Rosny answered peremptorily, ‘for I have just come from there, and I will answer for it he is not within ten leagues of the place. And now, sir, as we desire to enter before the gates shut, perhaps you will excuse us.’ With which he bowed, and I bowed, and they bowed, and we separated. They gave us the road, which M. de Rosny took with a great air, and we trotted to the gate, and passed through it without misadventure. The first street we entered was a wide one, and my companion took advantage of this to ride up abreast of me. ‘That is the kind of adventure our little prince is fond of,’ he muttered. ‘But for my part, M. de Marsac, the sweat is running down my forehead. I have played the trick more than once before, for my brother and I are as like as two peas. And yet it would have gone ill with us if the fool had been one of his friends.’ ‘All’s well that ends well,’ I answered in a low voice, thinking it an ill time for compliments. As it was, the remark was unfortunate, for M. de Rosny was still in the act of reining back when Maignan called out to us to say we were being followed.