Chaunchey was with a farmer’s daughter on the grassy banks of the LoireRiverwhen the storm rolled in, and having let his gelding wander in the meadow, was left to his own two feet to carry him back to the chateau. He tore a silver buckle off his slice, placed it in the girl’s palm, and watched her scurry away, mud slinging on her skirts. Then he tugged on his boots and started for home. Rain sheeted down on the darkening countryside surrounding the Chateau de Langeals, Chaunchey stepped easily over the sunken graves and humus of the cemetery; even in the thickest fog he could fiad his way home from here and not fear getting lost. There was no fog tonight, but the darkness and onslaught of rain were deceiving enaough. [download]
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