She
kindled the smouldering embers on the hearth into a blaze, threw on some
fresh wood, and then withdrew to mount to her chamber and make herself
a little more presentable--having first roused a stout peasant lad,
who served as hostler, and sent him to take the chariot into the court,
where he was heard directly unharnessing the weary horse and leading him
into the stable.
"We cannot leave poor Matamore's body in the chariot all night, like
a dead deer brought home from the chase," said Blazius; "the dogs out
there in the court might find it out. Besides, he had been baptized, and
his remains ought to be watched with and cared for, like any other good
Christian's."
So they brought in the sad burden tenderly, laid it on the long table,
and covered it again carefully with the white linen cloth. When the
old woman returned, and saw this strange and terrible sight, she was
frightened almost to death, and, throwing herself on her knees, began
begging volubly for mercy--evidently taking the troupe of comedians for
a band of assassins, and the dead man for their unfortunate victim.
It was with the greatest difficulty that Isabelle finally succeeded
in calming and reassuring the poor, distracted, old creature, who was
beside herself with terror, and made her listen to the story of poor
Matamore's death.
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