"I will not say 'good-bye,'" she exclaimed saucily, "as we are certain to meet again. If you act on my advice it will be in the palace of Conde. The prince loves a lad of mettle." "Albert must consult his own honour," said Marie. "And ruin his prospects for an empty whim! Don't listen to her, Albert, and above all things, don't let Mazarin drag you down. Keep constantly in your mind that he has had his day, and will never return to power. Last of all, remember you are always welcome in the Rue Crillon, whether fortune treat you well or ill." When they had gone I sent for Pillot, who was still in the house. Food and rest had performed wonders for the little man, who looked as jaunty and self-possessed as ever. "Has your horse recovered?" I asked. "Perfectly, monsieur." "I am starting for the capital at day-break. If you care to ride with me, I shall be glad of your company." "Monsieur honours me!" said he, making a bow. "Then tell the servants to prepare you an early breakfast, and join me in the courtyard at seven." "I shall be there, monsieur," and the rascal tripped off smiling, while I, taking a candle, went to bed, hoping to obtain a good night's rest. It was a glorious morning when we left Aunay, and Etienne, an old retainer on the estate, came to the gate to wish us God-speed. "Give my respects to your mistress and to Mademoiselle de Brione," I said as we rode away. The air was fresh and cool; dew-drops gemmed the earth's green carpet, and hung like pendants of brilliants from the leaves of the trees; hundreds of songsters poured forth delicious hymns of praise to the opening day; the rising sun tinted the distant peaks with purple and gold; the whole earth seemed like fairy-land. Shaking his handsome mane, my horse, of his own accord, broke into a canter, while I, almost involuntarily, trolled forth a well-known hunting song. Pillot, who rode at my side, was a merry companion, full of quips, and jests, and odd conceits, which lightened the tedium of the journey. The fellow was undoubtedly a rogue of the first water, but he possessed many amiable traits, and had a fine sense of humour. Not being in a particular hurry, and still feeling the effects of my recent illness, I resolved to stay for the night at Aviers, a village about thirty miles from Aunay. The inn was dirty, the accommodation meagre, and the landlord a surly boor, who behaved as if we had done him a grievous injury by stopping at his house. After providing a feed for the horses, his resources appeared to be exhausted, and, but for Pillot, I should doubtless have gone to bed without supper. He, however, had a keen appetite, and meant to satisfy it. "Stay here, monsieur," said he, cheerfully; "if there is anything eatable in the place we will soon have it on the table. _Peste!_ things are coming to a fine pass when a gentleman cannot be served with food at an inn!"