"His Majesty has just heard of your return, madame, and is overjoyed. It will be a great hunt to-day. Permit me!" And then he caught sight of me, and started back, his half-outstretched arm falling to his side, his lips curled back in a snarl. "You keep madame waiting, Monsieur le Vidame," I said, "and her business is of vital import." He was about to answer when La Valentinois placed her hand on his arm, and muttering something under his breath, Simon turned and led her up the stairway, all bowing as though she were the Queen. Whilst the two went up, they began to talk in low, hurried tones, and twice Simon looked back at me, the hate of a devil in his glance. Most of those present followed them; but there still remained many who crowded around us buzzing with questions; but we put them aside, saying we were weary, and needed rest. As the red dawn came I found myself seated on a wooden bench near my horse's stable wondering, fearing, and hoping. The escort had been dismissed by De Lorgnac, with orders to return to Paris under M. de Tolendal, as soon as the horses were rested, and De Lorgnac himself had gone off somewhere. So two hours must have passed, and it seemed to me that the movement in the courtyards and in the Chateau grew less and less. Presently half a dozen huntsmen, leading their hounds, passed close to me, talking in loud and aggrieved tones. "_Mille diables_!" exclaimed one. "To think it is all off!" "Never have I known the like!" said another. "What has happened, my friends?" I asked; and the first speaker replied: "The hunt is put off, monsieur. Put off, after we had marked down the largest and fiercest boar in France! As high as that!" And he held his palm out almost on a level with his breast. "Ay; and as grey as my beard," put in another, a little, shrivelled old man. "He has the devil on his side, that boar. Five times has he escaped. Three of my best hounds has he slain. For a whole week have I tracked him through the Dormoir, and now that we have him safe in his lair in the Gorges d'Apremont--the King does not hunt! He has the devil on his side, I say!" "Way! Way for Monsieur le Vidame's horse!" called out a strident voice, and a groom came up, leading a big white horse ready saddled. The huntsmen moved aside, and the groom led the horse towards the Chateau; but ere he had gone ten steps Simon himself appeared hastening towards him. Simon was still in his hunting suit of close-fitting dark green, a short cloak thrown over his shoulder, and long boots that reached to his thighs. His sword was slung scabbardless to his side, and he wore a baret on his head, with a single cock's feather in it, underneath which his pale face looked like that of a corpse.