At the Angoulême gate I met my first check. That it should be fast closed and guarded was to be expected, and that the guard should be an insolent, ribald crew was nothing strange. Those who served Louis earned their wages more by licence than as lawful pay. There were some half dozen of them, and I could hear their laughter long before I drew rein, crying peremptorily, though my teeth were almost chattering-- "On the King's business, open, and quickly! On each of the round towers flanking the gateway there hung a lantern, so smoke-grimed as to give light nowhere but where it was least wanted, that is, upwards to the sky. Lifting one of these down a guard flashed the glare into my face. "The King, my pretty?" said he, laying a hand upon my knee and shaking me. "Won't a simpler man do you?" "Learn manners, brute!" said I, slashing him with my riding whip as he leered up into my face. "Learn manners, and be thankful I have no time to wait to see you flogged. Fetch your master; this is the King's business of life and death." Half to my surprise he obeyed, and presently returned with the officer of the night. "By the King's command, Monsieur," said I, holding the ring so that the light fell full upon the collet. "It is against orders, and who, Mademoiselle, are you?" "The King is above your orders, and I, Monsieur, am the King's messenger. That is my passport." And I pushed the ring fairly into his face. "Do you know the King's cypher, or do you refuse to honour it?" "I know it well enough," he answered civilly. "Twice I have served at Clery when his Majesty was in residence; but this is against all rule." "Have it so," said I, gathering up the reins. "I can return the way I came, and say to those who sent me that Monsieur the King's officer of the Angoulême gate rates his captain higher than his King. May I suggest, Monsieur the King's officer, that it will be wise of you not to be found in Poictiers at daybreak to-morrow! But I give you one more chance. In the King's name and by the King's authority, I bid you open the gate." With a shrug, and "It can do no harm," he unhooked a bunch of huge keys from his girdle, and drew aside one leaf of the great gate. "It is your wisdom," said I curtly, and spurred through. Nor, so long as the _pa-lop pa-lop_ of her hoofs could be heard did I ease Anita from her gallop. Then by such faint light as the stars gave through a misty sky I fumbled my way round the city towards the north. Once only, and then by day and in the reverse direction, had I before travelled the road. What wonder I blundered and went astray, rousing up sleepy villagers too stupid to set me right? What wonder I despaired, and flinging the reins on Anita's neck, left her to pick her own path? What wonder that, being a woman and weak, I wept myself into helplessness, and then, being a woman who loved, prayed myself back into strength and courage again?