Yet there I rode as if
the Devil had me for a quarry,--panting, sweating, cursing, and well-nigh
sobbing with rage at a fear that I might come too late,--all because of a
proud lady who knew me for what I was and held me in contempt because of
her knowledge; all for a lady who had not the kindness for me that one
might spare a dog--who looked on me as something not good to see.
Since there was no one to whom I might tell my story that he might mock me,
I mocked myself--with a laugh that startled passers-by and which, coupled
with the crazy pace at which I dashed into Blois, caused them, I doubt not,
to think me mad. Nor were they wrong, for mad indeed I deemed myself.
That I trampled no one underfoot in my furious progress through the streets
is a miracle that passes my understanding.
In the courtyard of the Lys de France I drew rein at last with a tug that
brought my shuddering brute on to his haunches and sent those who stood
about flying into the shelter of the doorways.
"Another horse!" I shouted as I sprang to the ground. "Another horse at
once!"
Then as I turned to inquire for Michelot, I espied him leaning stolidly
against the portecoch?re.
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