Philip suffered them to enter the house, one after another, and setting down the lamp, he gazed upon them in silence, his horror at gentlemen in black coats and long straight swords, as well as those dressed in Isabel and silver, being quite unspeakable. "Well, Monsieur Philip le Bucheron," said the spokesman, throwing himself into the oaken settle with that sort of percussion of breath denoting fatigue: "you seem frightened, Monsieur Philip; but, good Monsieur Philip, you have no cause for fear. We are all your friends, Monsieur Philip." "I am glad to hear it, Sir," replied the Woodcutter; "but may I know what you want with me?" "Why, this is the truth, Monsieur Philip," replied the servant, "it seems that his Majesty the King, whom we have just left at Chantilly, is very angry about something,--Lord knows what! and our noble employer, not to say master, the Count de Chavigni, having once upon a time received some courtesy at your hands, is concerned for your safety, and has therefore deemed it necessary that you should be kept out of the way for a time." "Oh, if that be the case," cried Philip, rubbing his hands with gladness, "though I know not why the King's anger should fall on me, I will take myself out of the way directly." "No, no, Monsieur Philip, that won't do exactly," answered the servant. "You do not know how fond my master is of you; and so concerned is he for your safety, that he must be always sure of it, and therefore has given us command to let you stay in the Bastille for a few days." At that one word _Bastille_, Philip's imagination set to work, and instantly conjured up the image of a huge tower of red copper, somewhat mouldy, standing on the top of a high mountain, and guarded by seven huge giants with but one eye apiece, and the like number of fiery dragons with more teeth and claws than would have served a dozen. If it was not exactly this, it was something very like it; for Philip, whose travels had never extended a league beyond the wood of Mantes, knew as much about the Bastille as Saint Augustin did of Heaven,--so both drew from their own fancy for want of better materials. However, the purse which Chavigni's attendants gave him in behalf of their master, for they dared not withhold his bounty, however much they might be inclined, greatly allayed the fears of the Woodman. There is something wonderfully consolatory in the chink of gold at all times; but in the present instance, Philip drew from it the comfortable conclusion, that they could not mean him any great harm when they sent him money. "I know not what to think," cried he. "Why, think it is exactly as I tell you," replied the servant, "and that the Count means you well. But after you have thought as much as you like, get ready to come with us, for we have no time to spare."