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Produced by David Widger.





                     *THE COUNTESS DE SAINT-GERAN*

                                  _By_

                        *Alexandre Dumas, Pere*

         _From the set of Eight Volumes of "Celebrated Crimes"_


                                  1910




CONTENTS


    *THE COUNTESS DE SAINT-GERAN--1639*




*THE COUNTESS DE SAINT-GERAN--1639*


About the end of the year 1639, a troop of horsemen arrived, towards
midday, in a little village at the northern extremity of the province of
Auvergne, from the direction of Paris. The country folk assembled at the
noise, and found it to proceed from the provost of the mounted police
and his men. The heat was excessive, the horses were bathed in sweat,
the horsemen covered with dust, and the party seemed on its return from
an important expedition. A man left the escort, and asked an old woman
who was spinning at her door if there was not an inn in the place. The
woman and her children showed him a bush hanging over a door at the end
of the only street in the village, and the escort recommenced its march
at a walk. There was noticed, among the mounted men, a young man of
distinguished appearance and richly dressed, who appeared to be a
prisoner. This discovery redoubled the curiosity of the villagers, who
followed the cavalcade as far as the door of the wine-shop. The host
came out, cap in hand, and the provost enquired of him with a swaggering
air if his pothouse was large enough to accommodate his troop, men and
horses. The host replied that he had the best wine in the country to
give to the king's servants, and that it would be easy to collect in the
neighbourhood litter and forage enough for their horses. The provost
listened contemptuously to these fine promises, gave the necessary
orders as to what was to be done, and slid off his horse, uttering an
oath proceeding from heat and fatigue. The horsemen clustered round the
young man: one held his stirrup, and the provost deferentially gave way
to him to enter the inn first. No, more doubt could be entertained that
he was a prisoner of importance, and all kinds of conjectures were made.
The men maintained that he must be charged with a great crime, otherwise
a young nobleman of his rank would never have been arrested; the women
argued, on the contrary, that it was impossible for such a pretty youth
not to be innocent.

Inside the inn all was bustle: the serving-lads ran from cellar to
garret; the host swore and despatched his servant-girls to the
neighbours, and the hostess scolded her daughter, flattening her nose
against the panes of a downstairs window to admire the handsome youth.

There were two tables in the principal eating-room. The provost took
possession of one, leaving the other to the soldiers, who went in turn
to tether their horses under a shed in the back yard; then he pointed to
a stool for the prisoner, and seated himself opposite to him, rapping
the table with his thick cane.

"Ouf!" he cried, with a fresh groan of weariness, "I heartily beg your
pardon, marquis, for the bad wine I am giving you!"

The young man smiled gaily.

"The wine is all very well, monsieur provost," said he, "but I cannot
conceal from you that however agreeable your company is to me, this halt
is very inconvenient; I am in a hurry to get through my ridiculous
situation, and I should have liked to arrive in time to stop this affair
at once."

The girl of the house was standing before the table with a pewter pot
which she had just brought, and at these words she raised her eyes on
the prisoner, with a reassured look which seemed to say, "I was sure
that he was innocent."

"But," continued the marquis, carrying the glass to his lips, "this wine
is not so bad as you say, monsieur provost."

Then turning to the girl, who was eyeing his gloves and his ruff--

"To your health, pretty child."

"Then," said the provost, amazed at this free and easy air, "perhaps I
shall have to beg you to excuse your sleeping quarters."

"What!" exclaimed the marquis, "do we sleep here?"

"My lord;" said the provost, "we have sixteen long leagues to make, our
horses are done up, and so far as I am concerned I declare that I am no
better than my horse."

