This venerable equipage, constructed to defy the difficulties of roads carriageable or not, was stout enough to stand any test, and, if it left something to be desired in the way of ease, one was assured at all events of not breaking many bones in case of an upset, because the interior was so bountifully stuffed. There were six inches of wool and tow under the damask lining, so that one had a sense of security, if not all possible comfort. For the rest, it was a handsome chariot, all covered with leather, embellished with gilt nails which formed a decorative border for the panels. For convenience in entering and alighting, there was a small ladder, which was placed inside when not in use. In the four corners of this citadel on wheels, there was a very arsenal of swords and pistols, not forgetting the powder and ball; so that, at need, they could sustain a siege therein. Two servants on horseback, carrying torches, headed the procession; two other torch-bearers rode behind the carriage with D'Alvimar's servant, who led his master's horse. The marquis's young page sat on the box beside the coachman. The party clattered noisily under the portcullis of La Motte-Seuilly; and the rattling of the chains of the drawbridge as it rose behind the procession, amid the joyous barking of the watch dogs as they were set loose in the courtyard, combined to make an uproar which could be heard as far as the hamlet of Champillé, a good fourth of a league away. D'Alvimar felt called upon to say a few words to Bois-Doré in praise of his fine carriage, an article of comfort and luxury still rare in the country districts, and considered a marvel of magnificence, particularly in Berry. "I did not expect," he said, "to find the luxury of the great cities in the heart of Berry, and I see, monsieur le marquis, that you lead the life of a man of quality." Nothing could have been more flattering to the marquis than this last expression. Being a simple gentleman, he was not and could not be, despite his title, a _man of quality_. His marquisate was a little farm in the Beauvoisis which he did not even own. On a certain day of fatigue and peril, Henri IV., arriving with him and a very small escort at that farm, where the chances of partisan warfare had compelled them to halt, and which they found entirely abandoned,--Henri IV., we say, was in great danger of not breakfasting at all, when Monsieur Sylvain, who was a most resourceful man in adventures of this sort, discovered in a thicket a number of fowls which had been left behind and had become wild. The Béarnais had taken part in the hunt with great zest, and Sylvain had undertaken to cook the game to a turn. This unlooked-for repast had put the King of Navarre in excellent humor, and he had conferred the farm upon his loyal retainer, erecting it into a marquisate by his good pleasure, to reward him, he said, for having rescued a king from death by starvation.