‘You have not an instant to lose,’ replied young Glazer hurriedly, ‘and must leave the house in reality. I have just now left them with M. Artus, about to come on and arrest you. You must fly—instantly.’
‘Fly! by what means?’ asked Marie; ‘my horses are at Offemont, except the one at—at his house in the Rue des Bernardins. O Philippe!’ she continued, ‘tell me what to do in this fearful extremity. I know not how to act—I am nearly dead.’
All her self-possession, all her duplicity, gave way beneath the crushing agony of the moment. She burst into tears, and would have fallen to the ground had not Philippe caught her in his arms.
‘Is there nothing in the stables that we can depart with?’ asked he of Françoise, who had been watching this short scene with trembling attention. ‘It will not do to hire a carriage, as that would give a certain clue to our route.’
‘A man brought a tumbrel here this afternoon, with some things from the country. He has left it, with the horse, in the stables, and sleeps himself at the Croix d’Or, in the Rue St. Antoine.’
‘Bring this light with you, and show me the way,’ said Philippe, as he placed the Marchioness in a fauteuil, and hurried downstairs, followed by the femme de chambre.
As soon as the girl had indicated the spot, Glazer told her to return to her mistress and bid her prepare as quickly as she could to leave Paris, taking with her only such few things as were immediately necessary. Next, pulling the drowsy horse from his stall, he proceeded to harness him, as well as his acquaintance with such matters allowed him to do, to the rude country vehicle which Françoise had spoken about. All this was not the work of five minutes; and he then returned to Marie’s apartment.
But, brief as the interval had been, Marie had in the time recovered her wonted firmness, and aided by her servant had rapidly made her toilet, wrapping herself in her warmest garments for protection against the inclemency of the weather. When Philippe entered, he found Françoise occupied in making up a small parcel, half unconscious, however, of what she was doing, from flurry at the evident emergency of the circumstances; and Marie was standing before the fire, watching the destruction of a large packet of letters and other papers, which were blazing on the hearth.
‘I am ready, madame,’ said Philippe; ‘do not delay your departure an instant longer, or you cannot tell into what perplexities you may fall. Every moment is of untold value.’
‘Where do you propose to take me?’ asked the Marchioness earnestly.