Avoiding all large towns, and stopping only at village inns, they made their way south; making long journeys each day. In the villages there was little of the religious rancour that animated the people in the towns and, after the first two days, Philip found that the news of what had occurred at Paris had not, as yet, spread. Eager questions were asked Pierre as to the grand wedding festivities at Paris; and there was, everywhere, a feeling of satisfaction at a union that seemed to promise to give peace to France. Claire was generally supposed to be Philip's sister; and the hostesses always did their best to make the girl, with her pale sad face, as comfortable as possible. Fearing that a watch might have been set at the bridges, they avoided these, crossing either by ferry boats or at fords. The Loire was passed above Orleans, and as that city, Blois, and Tours all lay on the northern bank, they met with no large towns on their way, until they approached Chatellerault. They bore to the south to avoid that city and Poitiers and, on the eighth day after leaving Paris, they reached the chateau of Laville, having travelled upwards of two hundred miles. As they crossed the drawbridge, Philip's four retainers met them at the gate, and greeted him most warmly. "Is the countess in?" he asked, as he alighted. "She is, Monsieur Philip. She has been for some days at La Rochelle, and returned yesterday. There are rumours, sir, that at Poitiers and Niort the Catholics have again, in spite of the edicts, fallen upon the Huguenots; and though the countess believes not the tale, we had a guard posted at the gate last night." "I am afraid it is true, Eustace," Philip said. "Take the horses round to the stables, and see to them well. They have travelled fast." Taking Claire's hand, he led her up the steps; and just as he entered the hall the countess, to whom the news of his approach had been carried, met him. "Aunt," he said, "I confide this lady to your loving care. It is Mademoiselle de Valecourt, now my affianced wife. I have bad news to tell you; but I pray you lead her first to a chamber, for she is sore wearied and in much grief." "Francois is not dead?" the countess exclaimed in a low voice, paling to the lips. "I trust not, aunt. I have no reason for believing that he is." "I will wait here, Philip, with the countess's permission," Claire said. "It is better that you should not keep her in suspense, even for a moment, on my account." "I thank you, mademoiselle," the countess said, as she led the girl to a couch. "This is but a poor welcome that I am giving you; but I will make amends for it, when I have heard what Philip has to tell me. "Now, Philip, tell me the worst, and let there be no concealment." Philip related the whole story of the massacre, his tale being interrupted by frequent exclamations of horror, by the countess.