“I shall try, monsieur,” I faltered.
“And tell Madame du Maine,” he continued, rapidly, “that everything is prepared at Bayonne and that my absence will make no difference. My men know my wishes, the town council is ready, and the city will declare against Orleans.”
“Yes, yes, I will tell her.”
“And now, good-by, my friend,” and Richelieu took my hand. “You have already performed miracles of valor in my behalf, and that I am a prisoner now is my own fault and not yours. I shall never forget it.”
He drew his sword, threw it far from him, and passed down the stairs under the red glow of the torches to the captors who awaited him, his head proudly erect, his lips smiling. The lights threw flaring shadows in every corner, but their bearers stood in perfect silence, with upturned faces, admiring, breathless. Could I have known what was to follow ere I should see that courtly form again, even then, I swear it, I would have rushed down sword in hand and cut our way to freedom. But it was not to be.
I stood there motionless till the tramp of horses died away in the distance. Then I opened the door and entered.
“We have heard all,” said Louise. “Richelieu is arrested.”
“And I am here,” I added, gloomily.
“Believe me, we do not blame you in the least, M. de Brancas,” and Mlle. de Valois smiled through her tears. “You did more than any other man could have done, monsieur.”
“In any event, there is nothing more for us to do here,” I said. “Let us go. But first, let me tell you, mademoiselle, that Richelieu entreats you not to over-estimate his danger, and not to worry on his account, since he believes he will be free in a week’s time.”