[Illustration: A SMALL WINDOW WAS OPENED.] At length, a small window in the principal gate was opened, and a man's head, wearing a helmet with the visor down, appeared in the square aperture. "Which of the varlets that we left here are you?" cried the angry squire. "And what are you doing with the armor of the Countess on your rascally head? Did you not know me when I called to you, and when are you going to open this gate for us?" "I am not any man's varlet," said the person in the helmet, "and you did not leave me here. I wear this helmet because I thought that some of your impatient men might thrust at me with a spear, or shoot an arrow at me when I should show my head. I did not know you when you called, for I never heard your voice before, and I am not going to open the gate for you at all." The squire sat upon his horse, utterly astounded at this speech, while his men gathered around him, wondering what strange thing they next would hear. "Who, then, are you?" cried the squire, when he had found his voice, "and what are you doing here?" "I have no objection," said the other, "to make the acquaintance of any man who wants to know me, and to tell him what I do, if it be, in any way, his business. I am Michol, the captain of the good and true band of _cotereaux_ who for some time past have lived in this forest, near by; and what I am doing here is this: I am dwelling in this goodly chateau, in peace and comfort, with my men." The squire turned and looked at his followers. "What think you," he said, "does all this mean? Is this a man gone crazed?" "Not so," said the man with the helmet; "not so, my good fellow. I may have done crazy deeds in by-gone days, but this is the most sane thing I ever did in all my life. If you should care to hear the whole story, straight and true,—and I should like much to tell it to you, that you may take it to your mistress,—come closer and listen." The squire, anxious enough to hear, rode close to the gate; the men crowded near him, and Michol, for it was really the captain of the _cotereaux_, told his story. "I am going to make this tale a short one," he said, "so that you can remember it, and tell it clearly, all of you. When the boy, son of the Countess of Viteau, was stolen from us——" "Stolen!" ejaculated the squire. "Yes," said the other, "that is the word. We captured the youngster fairly on the road, and held him for fitting and suitable ransom; and before we had opportunity to acquaint his friends with his whereabouts, and with the sum demanded for him, he was basely stolen by a traitor of our company, and carried away from us, thus cheating us of what was our fair and just reward." "Reward!" exclaimed the squire. "Reward for what?"