"Where, then—at the Carmelites?"
"No, at Meudon."
"At Meudon, in February, and in such weather; what can she be doing there?"
"It is easy to know."
"How?"
"Let us go to Meudon."
"To Meudon!" said the regent, jumping into the carriage; "I allow you five-and-twenty minutes to get there."
"I would humbly beg to remind monseigneur," said the coachman, "that the horses have already gone ten leagues."
"Kill them, but be at Meudon in five-and-twenty minutes."
There was no reply to be made to such an order; the coachman whipped his horses, and the noble animals set out at as brisk a pace as if they had just left the stable.