"But a safe one," I answered, laughing. "Where is the commandant to be
found? He will not feel well pleased at being wakened from his sleep."

"Ah, you do not know him! He is like the owl, and sleeps only in the
daylight. At other times he watches; he is going the rounds now, and
will be with us in a few minutes. It will need a craftier leader than
Anjou to take Saint Jean d'Angely by surprise! Ah, here is the
commandant!"

A veteran soldier, with white moustaches, white hair, and grizzled
beard! A strongly-built man of middle height, with resolute, determined
face, and an air that betokened long years of command.

"A despatch from the Admiral, monsieur," I said, saluting and handing
him the packet.

Tearing off the covering, he read the letter by the light of a torch,
folded the paper, and put it away carefully. By his face one could not
judge whether the information he had received was good or ill.

"You are from Rochelle?" he asked sharply.

"I have just ridden from there, monsieur."

"And are you returning?"

"No, monsieur. I am proceeding to Cognac."

"You have had a brisk ride, and your horse is in leed of rest. Come with
me."