“Think no more of it, M. de Brancas, I pray you,” he protested, with his familiar gesture. “Let there be no talk of payment. Indeed, I have already been more than paid by the persons who have taken an interest in your case.”
“And who were they, monsieur?” I asked, with some surprise.
But he merely waved his hand again and led me down to the coach, which was waiting. The drive across Paris, the fresh air of the morning, and the sight of the busy city were to me like a tonic, and I felt my strength returning with every moment. Levau looked at me with evident satisfaction.
“You will do,” he said. “With that color in your cheeks I have no longer any fear for the result.”
We soon reached the Hotel de Richelieu, and the joy of Jacques, who ran down the steps to welcome me, was touching to see. He would have had me carried into the house, but I would have none of it, and insisted on walking in myself. Levau left me at the door, admonishing me to rest as much as possible for a day or two, and to summon him if there were any unfavorable symptoms. Jacques led the way to the room on the first floor where I had so often dined. He arranged a chair for me, brought me a glass of wine, set a stool under my feet, and would have kissed my hand had I permitted it.
“There, there, Jacques,” I protested, as he asked me for the hundredth time if there was anything else he could do for me. “I am not going to die, my good friend. In a day or two I shall be well as ever and then we will see what can be done for Richelieu.”
“I knew you would say that, monsieur!” he cried. “I have heard of your wonderful exploit of the other evening. Who in Paris has not heard of it? Nothing seems to stop you, monsieur, when once you get started.”
I thought to myself that the walls of the Bastille were likely to stop me very effectually, but I did not want to damp his confidence, so I merely smiled, and after a time he left me alone while he went to give orders for dinner.
An hour passed, during which he looked in upon me once or twice, and I was dozing before the fire when I heard the door open again. Supposing it to be Jacques I did not turn, but in an instant I was startled by a hand upon my shoulder.
“Richelieu!” I cried, springing from my chair, my weakness vanishing as if by magic, and I caught his hand. “But what miracle is this? Have you escaped, man, and in broad daylight? You must not remain here. Come, a horse, and in an hour you will be safe.”