At last she looked at me,—only a glance, but a glance that made my heart leap.
“And have you brought me here to torture me?” she cried.
“Have patience,” and the regent smiled down again into her upturned face. “You will learn in a moment, mademoiselle. This,” he continued, picking up another paper, “is a second report concerning M. de Brancas. It relates how he escaped from the salon by overturning two of the guards, mounted a horse and rode away no one knew whither, evading two volleys which were fired after him. Here is a third report, stating that Madame du Maine endeavored to prevent his escape, and furnished a description of the horse and rider, which was sent to all the gates of Paris, and especially, at her urgent request, to the Versailles gate. This paper is the report of the commandant of the Versailles gate. It relates how M. de Brancas arrived at the gate in the guise of a courier, having in some way obtained the pass-word; how, in the instant that an attempt was made to arrest him, he rode down a sentry, forced open the gate, and plunged into the outer darkness. The report adds that a volley of musketry was fired after him, but that he apparently escaped uninjured, and that the absence of horses prevented a pursuit. Here is a report from Levau, chief surgeon of the Hotel Dieu, to whom this case was especially intrusted. It states that M. de Brancas was brought there suffering from a pistol-shot in the head and another in the shoulder, that he recovered from both wounds and was discharged practically well again.”
The regent paused and I got another glance from Louise. She was breathing more freely and the color was returning to her face. What cared I for the regent if only she loved me?
“But the most important report of all is not here,” he continued. “That is my report, which, however, has never been put into writing. It is that on this same night I was returning to Paris from Versailles, where some business had summoned me. I had passed St. Cloud, when out of the wood ahead rode a madman, who fired a pistol into the air, cried to me to save myself, and rolled lifeless into the road. The report would add that, upon examination, this madman was found to be the same M. de Brancas concerning whom so many reports have already been written. The report would conclude by stating that a plot to assassinate me was subsequently discovered.”
Again the regent paused for a moment. Ah! the joy in my heart when Louise looked at me a third time,—this time almost with a smile.
“In other words,” went on the regent, “the object of this mad ride through the night, this overcoming of so many obstacles, this encountering of so many perils,—in short, this achievement almost superhuman,—was to save my life from a band of murderers. For this I am grateful, and I intend to show my gratitude. This, M. de Brancas,” and he picked up another paper, “is the title to a pretty little estate in Normandy. It is called Arneaux. This title, monsieur, I give you, and I instruct you to set out for your estate as soon as possible. It is upon your estate that I propose to imprison you.”
I took the paper, too stupefied to speak. An estate for me—for me, Jean de Brancas!
“But this is more than I merit, monsieur,” I stammered. He silenced me with a gesture. Louise was beaming at me, her eyes bright with tears.
“It was at this point,” continued the regent, whose face grew ever more smiling, “that my daughter came to my assistance. It was last night that she knocked at the door of my apartment, and after she had entered, she told me of an act of loyalty before which I count all this as nothing. She told me of a man who held honor above love and friendship, and of a woman who held loyalty and honor above love. Believe me, monsieur and mademoiselle, there are not many such. And in return for this my daughter suggested that I also appoint a jailer for M. de Brancas.”