Blows were raining upon the door, and I knew that it must soon give way. I looked at Richelieu again, but he had returned to the princess.
“Very well,” I muttered, “we must stay in this devil of a hole, then, it seems,” and I folded my arms and walked moodily towards the door.
But I paused as I felt a light touch upon my elbow.
“Oh, M. de Brancas,” murmured Louise, “when M. le Duc told us that he had not seen you, that you had not returned to his hotel after the theatre last night, but that the note had been delivered, I suspected a trap. I implored him to go, but he would not listen.”
“I can well believe it,” I groaned. “He is capable of any madness.”
I heard the door below splitting. In another moment the soldiers would be upon us.
“And conceive our anxiety for you, monsieur,” continued Louise, in a lower tone.
“For me?” I cried. “And you have then forgiven me, Louise?”
“Oh, Jean!” and my arms were around her, “did you think these tears were for Richelieu?”
With a crash the door gave way, and I heard the tramp of heavy feet upon the stairs.