“In that case we will go to the mill,” said Bourbon. “You can answer for the miller's daughter, if not for the miller and his wife.” “I can answer for all three,” replied Hugues. “I will stake my life that your highness shall be safe at the mill---provided we can only get in; and what is more, we shall have a good stable for the horses.” They then rode towards the mill. Close beside it was Benoit's dwelling--a substantial-looking tenement, which showed he must have thriven in his trade. A little to the rear of the house were a large barn and stable. As the party approached the miller's abode, the alarm was given by the barking of a couple of fierce dogs in the stable-yard, and just as Hugues, who had dismounted for the purpose, was about to knock against the door with his whip, a chamber window was opened, and Benoit, thrusting forth his head, which was adorned with a tall bonnet de nuit, called out in a gruff voice: “Hola! my masters, what do you mean by disturbing honest folk at this time of night? Go about your business.” “Our business is to procure a lodging beneath your roof, père Benoit,” rejoined Hugues. “Don't you know me, my good friend?” “What! is it Hugues?” cried the miller. “What brings you here, boy, and who have you got with you?” At this juncture, Pomperant thought proper to interpose, declaring he was a captain of the royal guard of archers, on the way to Vienne, to intercept the flight of the Constable de Bourbon. The explanation did not appear very satisfactory to honest Benoit, for he rejoined in a sullen tone: “Pardieu! I shan't disturb myself for you, captain. You must go to the auberge. Good night!” And he was about to shut the casement, when Hugues called out to him: “Hold! père Benoit. You are mistaken. We are all friends of the Duke de Bourbon.” “Since you give me that assurance, Hugues, I am content,” said the miller. “But no enemy of Bourbon shall set foot in my dwelling, if I can prevent it.” “By Saint Louis! I am glad to hear you say so, good Benoit,” cried the Constable. “Admit us without fear. Bourbon has no better friend than myself.” “That voice!” exclaimed Benoit. “Oh, if it should turn out to be the Constable in person!” “You have not made a bad guess, père Benoit,” rejoined Hugues. “Come down as quickly as you can, and, meantime, let me have the key of the stable.” “Here it is,” replied the miller, throwing him the key from the window. “But wait till Madelon can go with you, for the dogs are loose.” “Oh, I'll wait. I don't want to be torn in pieces,” said Hugues, laughing, as he picked up the key.