It was striking eleven o'clock at Saint Germain l'Auxerrois. Maurevel counted each of the hammer-strokes as they sounded clear and melancholy through the night, and when the last echo had died away in space he turned to Coconnas, who was greatly mystified at seeing the precautions taken by the two men. "Sir," he asked, "are you a good Catholic?"
"Why, I think I am," replied Coconnas.
"Sir," continued Maurevel, "are you devoted to the King?"
"Heart and soul! I even feel that you insult me, sir, in asking such a question."
"We will not quarrel over that; only you are going to follow us."
"Whither?"
"That is of little consequence—put yourself in our hands; your fortune, and perhaps your life, is at stake."
"I tell you, sir, that at midnight I have an appointment at the Louvre."
"That is where we are going."
"Monsieur de Guise is expecting me there."