country at their feet, and all about them the trees preserved a
green that was but little touched by autumnal browning.

Awhile he paused there on the heights; then he gave his horse a
touch of the spur, and they started down the winding road that led
into La Rochette. A half-hour later they were riding under the
porte cochere of the inn of the Black Boar. Of the ostler who
hastened forward to take their reins Monsieur de Garnache inquired
if the Marquis de Condillac were lodged there. He was answered in
the affirmative, and he got down at once from his horse. Indeed,
but for the formality of the thing, he might have spared himself
the question, for lounging about the courtyard were a score of
stalwart weather-tanned fellows, whose air and accoutrements
proclaimed them soldiers. It required little shrewdness to guess
in them the personal followers of the Marquis, the remainder of
the little troop that had followed the young seigneur to the wars
when, some three years ago, he had set out from Condillac.

Garnache gave orders for the horses to be cared for, and bade
Rabecque get himself fed in the common room. Heralded by the host,
the Parisian then mounted the stairs to Monsieur de Condillac's
apartments.

The landlord led the way to the inn's best room, turned the handle,
and, throwing wide the door, stood aside for Monsieur de Garnache
to enter.

>From within the chamber came the sounds of a scuffle, a man's soft
laugh, and a girl's softer intercession.