“If you can,” she sneered. “That is well said. Unassisted, M. de Brancas, I defy you to save the regent.”
I looked at her once again but said nothing. Then I left her side. D’Ancenis was still busy taking the names of the prisoners. A group of guards lounged at each door. I considered a moment. If I could reach the horse which had been waiting for me since ten o’clock outside the little gate at the back of the palace I might yet be in time to warn the regent. Clearly, that was the only thing to be done, since I could not betray the duchess.
I sauntered carelessly towards the group of guards who stood at the entrance of the hall which led to the rear of the building. There were six of them, and they were chatting among themselves. I saw with satisfaction that the hall was dark. I was within three feet of them, and still they did not suspect me. I gathered myself for a spring.
“Take care, gentlemen,” cried the shrill voice of the duchess, “M. de Brancas is going to escape!”
But she was too late, for even as she spoke I sprang at the guards, hurled back two that barred the way, and disappeared into the darkness of the hall. They were thrown into confusion for a moment, and in that moment I reached the rear door and felt with joy that it yielded to my touch. As I slammed it after me a fusillade of shots rang out in the hallway, but I was in the court. Blessing the chance which had made me familiar with the place, I hastened towards the little gate, found it, and inserted the key in the lock. I heard the door behind me open and a chorus of excited cries.
“There he is!” yelled some one. “He is escaping! Fire!”
But I had the gate open and was in the street beyond. An agony of apprehension seized me. Suppose the horse should not be there. Suppose I should not find it in time. Yes, there it was, stamping its feet impatiently in the darkness. I reached it and with my sword cut the rope with which it was fastened just as my pursuers poured through the gate into the little street. In an instant I was in the saddle, without taking time to sheathe my sword, and the horse was off like a flash. There was a roar of muskets and I felt a sharp pain in my left shoulder, but my horse kept on and turned the corner into the Rue d’Echelle. I swayed in the saddle, but the shock passed, and in a moment I was riding firmly, my heart leaping at the rapid motion. And I set my teeth together as I determined, come what might, to save the regent.
CHAPTER XVIII
A RIDE THROUGH THE NIGHT
The streets were still filled with people, kept abroad apparently by rumors of the Spanish plot, and I was compelled to draw rein and go at a slower gait as I turned into the Rue St. Louis. Skirting the quays and crossing the river, I was soon in the suburbs of Paris and comparatively safe from pursuit. Here the extreme darkness delayed me as the crowds had in the busier portion of the city, but I knew that the distance to St. Cloud was only about six miles and that the regent could not reach the trap that had been set for him for an hour at least. So I gave the horse his head, confident that I should yet be able to defeat this last resort of the duchess. As I went I wondered who it was to whom she had committed this desperate mission, and to this question I could find no answer. It seemed to me an enterprise which no gentleman would undertake, and at which even a rogue would pause unless he were already without the pale of the law and so with little to lose. But that Madame du Maine would stoop to use such an instrument, even in her extremity, I could not believe. So I put the problem behind me and addressed myself to the question in hand, that of reaching St. Cloud in time.
I had one morning during my first week in Paris amused myself by loitering about the barrier and watching the arrival and departure of carriages on the Versailles road, and though I had never been over this road, I had little doubt that I should be able to find the way without difficulty. So my heart was light as I passed through the gloomy faubourgs, seemingly inhabited only by shadows, which slunk along under the walls of the houses. It was not until this moment that I realized what the failure of the plot meant to Richelieu, but even upon this point I soon felt more at ease, for perchance if I succeeded in saving the regent’s life he might be more inclined to listen to me.