“Monsieur knows or should know,” answered the man, “that all signalling to the prisoners is prohibited under pain of imprisonment. Put up your handkerchief and follow me, monsieur.”
I followed without a word, but inwardly cursing my ill fortune, and for the second time that morning the outer gate opened to admit me, this time without question. I was led straight to the governor’s office, a sentry on either side. Maison-Rouge looked at me with astonishment as I entered, and heard with evident impatience the statement of the guard who had arrested me.
“That will do,” he said, as he concluded his story, and as the door closed behind them he turned to me. “M. de Brancas, I need not tell you that your offence is a serious one, and that many persons have been imprisoned for much less.”
“I had desired only to let Richelieu know that his friends had not forgot him,” I protested.
“The regent has ordered that no communication be held with him,” said Maison-Rouge, sternly, “and I tell you plainly, monsieur, that at another attempt of this kind he will be placed in a cell where he will not only not see his friends, but where he will also never see the light of day. I intend taking no chance of offending the regent a second time.”
“Very well, monsieur,” I said, reflecting that anything was better than that Richelieu should be plunged into an oubliette; “as for me, I promise to hold no further communication with him until the regent permits it. Am I, also, a prisoner?”
“No, M. de Brancas,” he answered, not unkindly, “I do not intend to imprison you. I wish merely to warn you. You may go.”
The messenger was waiting, and I left the Bastille for the second time, to the obvious astonishment of the sentries at the outer gate. As it clanged shut behind me I decided that there was only one thing more I could do, to see the regent and endeavor to mitigate his anger against Richelieu. I had deferred this to the last, for I had little hope of success, and indeed thought it not unlikely that I should leave his presence escorted by a squad of soldiers; but everything else had failed me, and I turned towards the Palais Royal. Two o’clock was striking as I reached the Rue St. Honoré, which was crowded with the usual throng of carriages and pedestrians. I pushed my way through these, meeting no one whom I knew, and soon reached the palace.
I was shown into a large antechamber where a score of people were awaiting an audience, and among them I perceived Hérault. He was walking up and down with a gentleman whom I did not know, but who wore the uniform of a captain of the guards. In a moment Hérault perceived me, and came towards me, holding out his hand.
“Good-day, M. de Brancas,” he cried. “I am glad to see you. I trust you suffered no ill effects from your bath of yesterday evening?”