They arrived thus at the great ditch of the Bastile, which they crossed on a bridge improvised by the Leaguers the night before. The three cavaliers rode towards Charenton, when all at once the man on the right entered the forest of Vincennes, saying only, “Come.” The prince’s horse neighed, and several others answered from the depths of the forest. François would have stopped if he could, for he feared they were taking him to an ambush, but it was too late, and in a few minutes he found himself in a small open space, where eight or ten men on horseback were drawn up.
“Oh! oh!” said the prince, “what does this mean, monsieur?”
“Ventre St. Gris! it means that we are saved.”
“You! Henri!” cried the duke, stupefied, “you! my liberator?”
“Does that astonish you? Are we not related, Agrippa?” continued he, looking round for his companion.
“Here I am,” said D’Aubigné.
“Are there two fresh horses, with which we can go a dozen leagues without stopping?”
“But where are you taking me, my cousin?”
“Where you like, only be quick, for the King of France has more horses than I have, and is rich enough to kill a dozen if he wishes to catch us.”
“Really, then, I am free to go where I like?”