was now quite spent, he tried to think of what he should do--go
to Marly at once, that evening, as he had said to Louvois (although
with scarcely the intention of doing so, since he doubted seeing the
king without preparation), or find a roof for himself and a stall for
his horse for the night.

Then he decided suddenly, promptly, that the former was what he would
do. If he could get the king's ear first, before Louvois, he might
save himself. Louis was great of heart, in spite of his childish
belief in his kingly attributes, of his love of splendour, and his
vanity. Who could tell? A word with him--above all, a word breathed as
to whom St. Georges believed himself to be--and he was safe. His
father had been Louis's companion; he would not slay the son.
Safe--even though dismissed the army and stripped of his
commission--able to stay in France, to return to Troyes, to seek and
find his darling again!

He was resolved; he would go to Marly that night.

Only--how to get there. Marly lay beyond Versailles, four leagues from
Paris, and his horse could go no further. The marvel was that it had
done so much, and it was only by the most assiduous care and merciful
treatment--by sometimes walking mile after mile by its side, and by
resting it hourly--that St. Georges had been able to assist it to
reach Paris. Now it could do no more.

However, ere long he espied an _ecurie_ and found that the owner had
horses for hire, while one, a red roan with a shifty eye and
bright-blooded nostril, took St. Georges's fancy. He knew a good horse
the moment he saw one, and read by this creature's points that it
would be troublesome for the first mile, and then carry him swiftly
for the remainder of his journey. So, leaving his own horse--though
not before he had seen it attended to, fed, and rubbed down, and taken
into a comfortable, fresh-littered stall--he set out once more, tired,
worn, and travel-sore as he was, for his fresh destination. Yet he
knew his object, if he could attain it, would be worth a hundred times
the extra fatigue. And when it was attained he could rest. Time enough
then.

The red roan behaved exactly as he expected it would: it first of all
bounded half across the road when once he was in the saddle, knocking
down a scaramouche and a toothdrawer in doing so--the latter,
fortunately, having no customer in his hands at the moment; it next
proceeded sideways up the street, and then, finding it had a master to
deal