Toward the middle of December, 1813, a man was riding through the BlackForest.
This man seemed to be still in the vigor of youth. He wore a long, brownsurtout and leathern gaiters. His hair was worn in a queue, andpowdered. Night was coming on, and Pierre Labarre, confidential servantof the Marquis de Fongereues, was somewhat weary and eager to get on.
"Quick!" he said to his horse. "Quick! They are waiting for us, and weare the bearers of good news!"
The animal seemed to understand, and accelerated his pace.
Suddenly Pierre started. He had reached a group of nine trees, one ofwhich had been struck by lightning, making the group a conspicuous one.The rider listened as he pulled up his steed.
"Surely," he said to himself, "I heard the trot of a horse on the otherside of the Nine Trees!"
The road widened here and divided. He laid his hand on his breast by aninvoluntary movement.
"The portfolio is safe, any way! Get on, Margotte." And he lifted hisreins.
But, as if this movement were a signal, he heard distinctly a horsecoming toward him, this time at a full gallop, and then Pierre saw ashadow pass some thirty yards away.
He drew out a pistol, and rode with it in his hand until he passed thecross-road, but he saw and heard nothing more. Perhaps he had beenmistaken--it was only a messenger traveling the same road as himself. Hehad entered the path which in a half hour would take him into Fribourg,when suddenly there was a flash and a report. A ball struck Pierre inthe breast--he fell forward on the neck of his horse. A man came out ofthe shadow on the side of the road. This man was wrapped in a cloak.Just as he laid his hand on the bridle of the horse, Pierre straightenedhimself in his saddle.
"You are in too great a hurry, bandit!" he shouted, firing his pistol atthe assassin at the same moment.
The man uttered a terrible cry, and then, with a superhuman effort,sprang into the wood. Pierre fired again, but this time hit nothing.
"It was a good idea of mine," he said, rubbing his chest, "to use thisportfolio as a breastplate. And now, Margotte, carry me to Fribourgwithout further adventures!"
As Margotte obeyed the spur, her master heard the gallop of anotherhorse dying away in the distance.
"Strange!" he said. "I could not see his face, but it seemed to me thatI knew his voice when he cried out!"