CHAPTER X
THE DILIGENCE FROM ROUEN AND THE MASQUERADING LADIES
The diligence from Rouen rolled and careened along the road to
Rochelle. Eddies of snow, wind-formed, whirled hither and thither, or
danced around the vehicle like spirits possessed of infinite mischief.
Here and there a sickly tree stretched forth its barren arms blackly
against the almost endless reaches of white. Sometimes the horses
struggled through drifts which nearly reached their bellies; again,
they staggered through hidden marsh pools. The postilion, wrapped in a
blanket, cursed deeply and with ardor. He swung his whip not so much
to urge the horses as to keep the blood moving in his body. Devil take
women who forced him to follow the king's highway in such weather! Ten
miles back they had passed a most promising inn. Stop? Not they!
Rochelle, Rochelle, and nothing but Rochelle!
"How lonely!" A woman had pushed aside the curtain and was peering
into the night. There was no light save that which came from the
pallor of the storm, dim and misty. "It has stopped snowing. But how
strange the air smells!"
"It is the sea .
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