‘To your chamber,’ he said at length, addressing himself to Marie. Then, turning to Gaudin, he continued, ‘Monsieur de Sainte-Croix, I will provide you with a lodging where you will run no risk of compromising the honour of a noble family.’
He drew from the pocket of his coat a folded paper. Sainte-Croix recognised the regal seal, and bowing, exclaimed—
‘A lettre de cachet, I presume. For Vincennes?’
‘Better, Monsieur le Capitaine,’ replied D’Aubray; ‘for the Bastille.’
‘I am too good a soldier to demur to any order of his Majesty, however disagreeable,’ said Sainte-Croix. ‘As for my appearance here, I will not attempt to justify it.’
‘Palsambleu! you do well, sir,’ said the old man, his voice quivering with anger, ‘and I would recommend your example to Madame la Marquise, there, my daughter, and—your paramour.’
‘Monsieur, de grace!’ returned Gaudin deprecatingly. ‘Your son-in-law will find me ready on my return from confinement to make him every amende he can ask as a gentleman. But be not unkind to your daughter; it is I alone who am to blame in this matter.’
A grateful look from Marie rewarded Sainte-Croix for his apparent magnanimity, and even D’Aubray, much as he was moved, seemed struck with it; for, in a tone of less bitterness than before, he requested Sainte-Croix to attend him into the court-yard, where the archers were in waiting.
‘Willingly,’ answered Gaudin. ‘But, monsieur, before I go, let me exchange a pledge with you; do not refuse me this one favour:’ and filling another glass, he offered to D’Aubray the one he had before poured out.
‘To my speedy reformation,’ said he, as he raised his glass.