A quarter of an hour afterward, Bathilde and Madame de Mouchy were at Richelieu's hotel. Contrary to all expectation, he was at home. Madame de Mouchy entered at once, followed by Bathilde. They found Richelieu occupied with Raffe, his secretary, in burning a number of useless letters, and putting some others aside.
"Well, madame," said Richelieu, coming forward with a smile on his lips, "what good wind blows you here? And to what event do I owe the happiness of receiving you at my house at half-past eight in the evening?"
"To my wish to enable you to do a good action, duke."
"In that case, make haste, madame."
"Do you leave Paris this evening?"
"No, but I am going to-morrow morning—to the Bastille."
"What joke is this?"
"I assure you it is no joke at all to leave my hotel, where I am very comfortable, for that of the king, where I shall be just the reverse. I know it, for this will be my third visit."
"What makes you think you will be arrested to-morrow?"
"I have been warned."