All was silent, however. The rushing sound of the mountain torrents, swelled by the late rains; the sighing of the night winds among the gorges of the mountains and through the deep pine forests; the distant cry of a wolf, and the whirring scream of the night-hawk, as it flitted by, were all heard distinctly; but no human voice mingled with the other sounds. This silence, however, gave no assurance to the heart of Bernard de Rohan that the persons for whom the servant had appealed to his chivalry had escaped from their assailants. It was well known at that time that every part of Savoy was infested with bands of brigands, which had rather increased than diminished in number since France had taken possession of the country; so that, unable to put them down, the famous Marechal de Brissac, in order to restrain their indiscriminate ravages in some degree, had been obliged to give them occasional employment with his own forces. When not thus employed, however, they were known to lay wait in all the principal passes, both of Piedmont and Savoy, and take toll of all travellers with a strong hand. Enormous barbarities were from time to time charged against them; and, if one might judge from general rumour, no scheme was too wild, no act too violent and desperate for them to devise and execute. The only conclusion, therefore, which Bernard de Rohan drew from the absence of all sounds of conflict was, that the banditti had prevailed, and either murdered their victims or carried them off. "Quick! quick!" he cried, after that momentary pause. "Lead on, lead on, good fellow! Where are your lord and lady? Which is the way?" "This way, noble sir, this way," cried the man, advancing at once along the road which led more immediately into the mountains. "They cannot have gone far: I could hear the voices of the brigands from the inn door." Thus saying, he led the way onward with great speed; but, as Bernard de Rohan followed with the same quick pace, the clear, deep voice of the man whom the host had called Master Leon sounded in his ear, saying, "There is some mistake here, and I think some villany; but fear not." "Fear!" replied Bernard de Rohan, turning his head towards him. "Do you suppose I fear?" "No, I suppose not," replied the man; "but yet there was no common interest in your eye, good youth, when this knave talked of his young mistress, and one may fear for others, though not for themselves. But hark! I hear a noise on before. Voices speaking. Some one complaining, I think. Quick, quick! Run, Sir Varlet, run!"