Even as he spoke the large drops fell slowly and heavily, denting the dusty covering of the road. Bernard de Rohan and his followers rode on at full speed, though the descent was steep, the way bad, and the gray twilight creeping over the scene. Five minutes more brought them to a turn where they could obtain a wider view; but, alas! no place of refuge was to be seen, except where the same tall dark tower rose heavily across the streaks of red light in the west, marking the place of some distant town or village. The attendants, who had pictured to themselves during the morning's ride all the comforts of the cheerful inn, the good rich wine of Dauphine, the stretching forth at ease of the strong, laborious limb, the easy gossip with the village girls, the light-hearted song in the porch, and all the relaxing joys of an hour's idleness, now begun to think of the long and tedious task of cleaning arms and clothing, and spending many an hour in rubbing the cold steel; and, to say sooth, their lord also would have been better pleased with fairer weather. The road, as such roads ever must do, wound its way round many a turn and angle of the rock, so that it was very possible for several persons to be within a short distance of each other, without the one who followed ever seeing him who was but a few hundred yards before him. At the spot which we have mentioned, Bernard de Rohan paused for a moment to look round for some place of shelter, and the road before him seemed perfectly clear and free. He could see completely into the valley on his right, and across the plains beyond, while the path which he was following could be traced along the side of the hill, round two or three sharp angles of the rock, about two hundred yards apart from each other. All at first was clear, as I have said, when suddenly there emerged, at the salient point which cut that part of the sky where the light still lingered, the figure of a human being, which was lost again round the turn almost as soon as it was seen. "There is a peasant on a mule," exclaimed the cavalier, gladly. "We cannot be far from some village." "It looks more like a priest on an ass, my lord," replied the attendant who had spoken before. "Well, well," said his master, "we shall find the better lodgings." "And the better wine," rejoined his follower; "but, perhaps, not the better welcome." "Oh, they are good men, these priests of Savoy," replied Bernard de Rohan, spurring on; "but we must not lose him again."