Such a deal of wonder is broken out within this hour That ballad-makers cannot be able to express it.
—A Winter's Tale V. 2.
It was about an hour later that a hired coach brought three English gentlemen to the small inn at St. Denis.
 
M. Blond was much perturbed. He was not accustomed to foreigners at any time and he held the English theoretically in abhorrence, and now here were four of these milors actually under his roof at one and the same time.
 
The three who had last arrived in the coach from Paris carried matters off in a very high-handed fashion and seemed ready to throw money about in a manner which was highly satisfactory to the bedraggled and seedy married couple who—besides the landlord and his spouse—formed the sum total of the personnel at the Sign of "Three Archangels" in St. Denis.
 
Sir John Ayloffe had assumed the leadership of the small party. He gave his own name to the landlord, and added that he and his two friends had come to pay their respects to my lord of Stowmaries, but lately arrived with his young bride.
 
Now can you wonder at good M. Blond's perturbation? The incidents which had crowded in at the Sign of the "Three Archangels" in the past half hour were enough to furnish food for gossip for many a long evening to come. In point of fact M. and Mme. Blond had just started talking the whole sequence of events over from the[229] beginning when the coach arrived with the three English milors, nor had the worthy couple had any chance of comparing impressions on these same mysterious events.
 
Firstly there had been the extraordinary arrival of the bride and bridegroom, who of a truth had been expected, since relays for the next day's journey had been sent to the "Three Archangels" the day before, but they certainly had not been expected under such amazing circumstances, the English milor's horse covered with lather, and the bride in her wedding gown all crumpled and soiled, clinging to her newly-wedded husband in front of his saddle, and in a vastly uncomfortable position.
 
This astonishing arrival of a bride and bridegroom who were reputed to be passing wealthy had of course vastly upset mine good host and his amiable wife. But then English milors were known to be eccentric, in fact most folk who had travelled in the fog-ridden country vowed that all the people there were more or less mad. 'Twas but lately that they had cut off the head of their king and set up a low-born soldier to rule them. No wonder that King Louis—whom le bon Dieu preserve!—was greatly angered with these English, and only forgave them when they returned to their senses and once more acknowledged the authority of him who was their king by right divine.
 
Worthy Monsieur Blond had explained all these matters to his buxom wife in an off-hand yet comprehensive manner, the while the latter made haste to hurry on the preparations for supper, for the pretty bride and the English milor—deeply in love with one another though they were, as any one who looked could see—had shown a very sensible and laudable desire to have some of Mme. Blond's excellent cro?te-au-pot to warm the cockles of their young hearts.
 
[230]
 
The second incident on this eventful evening was of minor importance, and tended greatly to minimise the eccentricity of that romantic arrival. The coach which should have brought the bridal pair to the "Three Archangels" did come in due time—even whilst Mme. Blond was preparing her bit of fricandeau garnished with fresh winter cabbage, which was to be the second course at the bridal supper.
 
The thoughtful mother of the love-sick bride had had the good sense to send her daughter's effects along, and all recollection of the curious arrival on horseback was forgotten before the prosy advent of boxes and bundles of clothes.
 
Mme. Blond, moreover, became fully satisfied that everything was right as right could be, when she went upstairs to announce the arrival of the coach. The bride's pretty face was as pink as the eglantine in June, and her eyes brighter than the full moon outside, whilst milor—ah, well, Mme. Blond had seen many a man in love in her day, Blond himself had not been backward when he was courting her—but never, never, had she seen a man so gloating on the sight of his young wife, as that eccentric mad milor had done, the while the pretty dear was prosily asking for supper.
 
All then had been for the best at nine of the clock that evening, but mark ye, what happened after that. Less than ten minutes later a rider—obviously half exhausted from a long and wearying journey—drew rein outside the "Three Archangels." M. Blond who more than once had been in Paris, had no difficulty in recognising in the belated traveller Master Legros, tailor in chief to His Majesty the King, and the father of the pretty bride upstairs.
 
[231] Master Legros undoubtedly did not look like himself, though he did try to assume a jaunty air as he asked to be shown the room wherein his daughter and milor would presently be supping.
 
It seemed a fairly simple incident at the time, this late arrival here of the bride's father, though Mme. Blond in thinking over the matter a............