“Truly I think thou might’st apply superlatives to it, without extravagance. To outwit and baulk the Public Accuser—the cat-fish of the Committee of Safety—Dame! is there a hole in all Paris too small to admit his tentacles? But I tell thee, monsieur, I am already in the prison of my own holy namesake.”
“I would kiss thy hands, but——”
“What now?”
“My letter referred to other than myself.”
He turned and, I thought, looked at me oddly.
“In these days, what safer refuge for a woman than prison,” he said, “provided she hath a friend at Court? Understand, monsieur, I have found Mademoiselle de Lâge respectable lodgings, that is all.”
“Where you hold her as Lovelace held the estimable Clarisse. Crépin, I cannot accept my life on these terms.”
The words jerked on my lips as the waggon was brought to a stand with a suddenness that made the harness rattle. A tall figure, that seemed to have sprung out of the earth, stood at the horses’ heads.
“Gusman,” said my companion quietly; “this is Citizen Thibaut, whom you are to conduct to the secret lodging. Hurry, then, Thibaut.”
I got with some difficulty to the ground.