"And whence, no doubt, your too great curiosity drove you?"
"Exactly, madame; you have the gift of divination. I waited, impatiently, for daylight, that I might see where I was, when at half-past four the same duenna returned, again bandaged my eyes, made me promise not to try to raise my bandage, led me outside, accompanied me for a hundred feet, made me again swear not to remove my bandage until I had counted fifty more. I counted fifty, and found myself in the Rue Saint Antoine, opposite the Rue de Jouy."
"And then"—
"Then, madame, I returned so happy that I paid no attention to the four wretches, from whose clutches I had such difficulty in escaping. Now, madame," continued La Mole, "in finding a piece of my plume here, my heart trembled with joy, and I picked it up, promising myself to keep it as a souvenir of this glad night. But in the midst of my happiness, one thing troubles me; that is, what may have become of my companion."
"Has he not returned to the Louvre?"
"Alas! no, madame! I have searched everywhere, in the Étoile d'Or, on the tennis courts, and in many other respectable places; but no Annibal, and no Coconnas"—
As La Mole uttered these words he accompanied them with a gesture of hopelessness, extended his arms and opened his cloak, underneath which at various points his doublet was seen, the lining of which showed through the rents like so many elegant slashes.
"Why, you were riddled through and through!" exclaimed Marguerite.
"Riddled is the word!" said La Mole, who was not sorry to turn to his account the danger he had run. "See, madame, see!"
"Why did you not change your doublet at the Louvre, since you returned there?" asked the queen.