‘It is a fresh scheme of Colbert’s hounds,’ said Bras d’Acier. ‘They know every vault and underground alley in Paris as well as the rats. To the Carrière Montrouge with ye all! I will dispose of this squeaking girl myself, though heaven and hell forbid it.’
His companions immediately took the hint. They hastily collected their things together, hiding some of them in niches and corners of the quarry, and then fled through the different archways in the direction indicated by Bras d’Acier; whilst the robber himself remained in the carrière, together with Lachaussée.
CHAPTER IX.
THE REVENGE OF SAINTE-CROIX—THE RENCONTRE IN THE BASTILLE
We left the Marchioness of Brinvilliers at the moment when her husband, in company with the Guet Royal, entered the court-yard, where she was lying in real or well-feigned insensibility, Sainte-Croix by her side, his drawn sword in his hand, and Camille Theria, a silent observer of the group, leaning with folded arms against one of the pillars of the doorway.
At the sudden exclamation of the Marquis, Sainte-Croix had started from his stooping position, and for a moment all was silence and expectation. Gaudin was a bold and ready-witted man; but the rage, jealousy, and hate that worked within him almost over-mastered even his well-practised invention. For an instant he thought of declaring his guilty passion for Marie, although at the risk of involving himself in her ruin; for he knew the hasty and vindictive temper of Brinvilliers. But this passed away, and with one great effort he turned calmly to Theria.
‘Now, sir,’ said he; ‘you will believe the assurance of this lady’s husband, that she is not what you took her for.’
The quick glance of intelligence that passed between them showed how well Theria understood the game Sainte-Croix was playing. Advancing to the Marquis, with a respectful bow, he tendered, in set phrase, his humble apology for having, in mistake, insulted ‘Madame la Marquise.’ He had an appointment on the spot, he declared; and the cloak which the Marchioness wore, together with the darkness of the night, had prevented his discovering that she was not the person he had expected, until her cries had brought in Sainte-Croix, who was passing, as he said himself, to his lodgings in the Rue des Bernardines, hard by the Place Maubert.
Whether fully satisfied with this explanation or not, the Marquis of Brinvilliers was too much a coureur des rues himself to scan too closely the equivocal position in which he had found his wife. She accounted very naturally for her presence by her connection with Glazer, the apothecary, who furnished the medicines for her patients in the Hôtel Dieu. The guard retired on finding that no more disturbance was to be apprehended; and Panurge having summoned a voiture de place, Antoine took a friendly leave of Sainte-Croix, thanking him for his interposition, handed in the Marchioness, and they drove rapidly off in the direction of the Pont Notre Dame.
‘Adieu, Monsieur de Sainte-Croix, or au revoir, if you will,’ said Theria, when they were left once more alone together. ‘The poor Marquis wears his horns with a grace that belongs exclusively to the court of our Grand Monarque. It would be a pity to rob him of so becoming an ornament.’
Gaudin scarcely knew what answer to make. Nor indeed did Theria permit any, as he continued—