But now it was the month of February, and in the terrible winter of 1719. The trees were powdered with hoar frost, and it was at this time impossible to glide quietly along in the little boat, for the lake was covered with ice. And yet, in this biting cold, in this dark, starless night, a cavalier ventured alone into the open country, and along a cross-road which led to Clisson. He threw the reins on the neck of his horse, which proceeded at a slow and careful pace. Soon, however, in spite of his instinctive precaution, the poor animal, which had no light to guide him, struck against a stone and nearly fell. The rider soon perceived that his horse was lamed, and on seeing a trail of blood upon the snow, discovered that it was wounded. The young man appeared seriously annoyed at the accident, and while deliberating what course to take, he heard a sound of horses' feet on the same road; and, feeling sure that if they were pursuing him he could not escape them, he remounted his horse, drew aside behind some fallen trees, put his sword under his arm, drew out a pistol, and waited. The cavalcade soon appeared; they were four in number, and rode silently along, passing the group of trees which hid the cavalier, when suddenly they stopped. One who appeared the chief alighted, took out a dark lantern, and examined the road. As they could not see far, they returned some steps, and, by the light of their lantern, perceived the cavalier. The sound of cocking pistols was now heard. "Hola!" said the cavalier with the wounded horse, taking the initiative; "who are you, and what do you want?" "It is he," murmured two or three voices. The man with the lantern advanced toward the cavalier. "Advance one step further and you are a dead man," said the cavalier. "Declare your name at once, that I may know with whom I have to deal." "Shoot no one, Gaston de Chanlay," replied the man with the lantern, calmly; "and put up your pistols." "Ah! it is the Marquis de Pontcalec." "Yes; it is I." "And what do you come here for, may I ask?" "To demand some explanation of your conduct. Approach and reply, if you please." "The invitation is singular, marquis. If you wish for an answer, could you not ask it in other terms?" "Approach, Gaston," said another voice; "we really wish to speak with you." "A la bonne heure," said Chanlay, "I recognize you there, Montlouis; but I confess I am not accustomed to M. de Pontcalec's manner of proceeding." "My manners are those of a frank and open Breton, monsieur," replied the marquis, "of one who has nothing to hide from his friends, and is willing to be questioned as freely as he questions others." "I join Montlouis," said another voice, "in begging Gaston to explain amicably. Surely it is not our interest to quarrel among ourselves." "Thanks, Du Couëdic," said De Chanlay, "I am of the same opinion; so here I am"--and sheathing his sword at these words, the young man issued from his retreat and approached the group.