were young, and whether it was a pretty girl lingering behind a
troop of gipsies, or a pair of strollers from Valencia
--JONGLEURS they still called themselves--singing in the old
dialect of Provence, or a Norman horse-dealer with his string of
cattle tied head and tail, or the Puy de Dome to the eastward
over the Auvergne hills, or a tattered old soldier wounded in the
wars--fighting for either side, according as their lordships
inclined--we were pleased with all.

Yet we never forgot our errand. We never I think rose in the
morning--too often stiff and sore--without thinking "To-day or
to-morrow or the next day--" as the case might be--"we shall make
all right for Kit!" For Kit! Perhaps it was the purest
enthusiasm we were ever to feel, the least selfish aim we were
ever to pursue. For Kit!

Meanwhile we met few travellers of rank on the road. Half the
nobility of France were still in Paris enjoying the festivities
which were being held to mark the royal marriage. We obtained
horses where we needed them without difficulty. And though we
had heard much of the dangers of the way, infested as it was said
to be by disbanded troopers, we were not once stopped or annoyed.

But it is not my intention to chronicle all the events of this my
first journey, though I dwell on them with pleasure; or to say
what I thought of the towns, all new and strange to me, through
which we passed. Enough that we went by way of Limoges,
Chateauroux and Orleans, and that at Chateauroux we learned the
failure of one hope we had formed. We had thought that Bezers
when joined there by his troopers would not be able to get