The Golden Knight pulled up short, but held his spear couched against
the worst. Prosper spoke again quite cheerfully.
"You and I have met, Dame Maulfry."
"You are speaking foolishness and wasting my time, Messire. I neither
know you nor your dame."
"You may have known my shield in more gaudy trim. Did I not turn
grave-digger for you some years ago?"
"Oh, oh! you are Prosper le Gai?"
"That is my name, Madam Maulfry. You know me at last."
"Yes, I know you. Take care. You are in no friendly country."
"I am a very friendly soul, but I will take care. You, I think, have
many friends in these parts--one in special, a holy person, a man of
religion. Is it so?"
"He is a man of many parts, Prosper. He hath an arm."
"He hath a gullet, I know," said Prosper cheerfully. "It is of him I
would speak, dame, at this moment. I shall meet him before long, I
hope, and should like to be advised by an old acquaintance. Will you
tell me why he chose out the arms of the man you and I put into the
ground?"
"Why would you know that, Prosper?"
"It seems to me an odd choice. There is a story about them. I am
curious."
"What is your story, Prosper? I will tell you this, that I tried to
dissuade him."
"Ah!"
"Well, sir, your story?"
"You told me they were the arms of De Genlis. Surely you were mistaken
in that?"
"I will be frank with you, Prosper. I was mistaken. They are the arms
of Salomon de Montguichet."
"Pardon me, dame," said Prosper, "they are the arms of Salomon de
Born."
He never dealt cleaner blow with a spear. The Golden Knight stood up
rocking in his stirrups. Then he dropped his weapon and began to wail
like a woman.
"Oh no, no, no! Oh, Prosper, be merciful! Oh, God, kill me, kill me,
kill me! Tell me you have lied, Prosper, or I must die."
"I have not lied, madam. You have lied," said Prosper, watching with a
bleak smile.
On a sudden the Golden Knight spurred his horse violently. The beast
lunged forward and shot off at a mad gallop with his flanks streaming
blood. Prosper watched him go.
"Follow! follow!" cried the Golden Knight to the man by the sign-post.
"I cannot, my lord," the man shouted as his master flew, "I am a man
of my word."
"Be off with you, you rascal," cheered Prosper; "I have said my say."
The man did not hesitate. Prosper watched the flying pair, a quiet
smile hovering about his mouth. "My shot told it seems," he said to
himself. "If Salomon de Born were not what I believe him to have been,
what is the grief of Madam Maulfry? Well, we will see next what Galors
de Born has to say to it."