"Tell us what you know about him----"

"Willingly. Firstly, I am afraid of him."

"Good, that is what you think; now tell us what you know."

"Listen. I was going home one night----"

"It begins in a terrible manner."

"Pray let me finish. It was about six months ago, I was returning
from my uncle D'Entragues, through the wood of Meridor, when
all at once I heard a frightful cry, and I saw pass, with an
empty saddle, a white horse, rushing through the wood. I rode
on, and at the end of a long avenue, darkened by the approaching
shades of night, I saw a man on a black horse; he seemed to fly.
Then I heard again the same cry, and I distinguished before him
on the saddle a woman, on whose mouth he had his hand. I had a
gun in my hand--you know I aim well, and I should have killed
him, but my gun missed fire."

"Well?"

"I asked a woodcutter who this gentleman on the black horse was,
and he said, 'M. de Monsoreau.'"

"Well," said Antragues, "it is not so uncommon to carry away a
woman, is it, Bussy?"

"No; but, at least, one might let them cry out."