"With pleasure. She is at St. Denis."
Mayenne cried helplessly, as numbed under a blow:
"St. Denis! But how—"
"How came she there? On foot, every step. I suppose she never walked two streets in her life before, has she, M. de Mayenne? But she tramped to St. Denis through the dark, to knock at my door at one in the morning."
Mayenne seized Monsieur's wrist.
"She is safe, St. Quentin? She is safe?"
"As safe, monsieur, as the king's protection can make her."
"Pardieu! Is she with the king?"
"She is at my lodgings, in the care of the saddler's wife who lets them. I left a staunch man in charge—I have no doubt of him."
"You answer for her safety?" Mayenne cried huskily; his breath coming short. He was flushed, the veins in his forehead corded.