“Absolutely nothing.”
“But how did you replace the bar in the window?”
“That was what the cement was for.”
“De Brancas, you are a genius!” exclaimed Richelieu. “But we both need sleep. Good-night, my friend.”
“Good-night,” I answered, and lay down again upon the bench. My eyes closed in sheer exhaustion despite the cold, and I dreamed that I was again walking in the Palais Royal gardens with Louise Dacour at my side and her warm little hand in mine.
CHAPTER VIII
AN AUDIENCE WITH THE REGENT
The sun was shining brightly through the bars of my window when I opened my eyes. So soundly had I slept that I had not heard the entry of the guard, who had placed my breakfast on the chair beside me. It consisted of a pound of bread, which I learned afterwards was the daily allowance for each prisoner in the Bastille, and a plate of haricot, in which bones and turnips were most conspicuous, and which I judged to consist of the remains of the dinner of the previous day. A can of water completed the repast, and I ate without grumbling. Not knowing that the bread was to last me the entire day, I ate it all. Then I sat down to think over the adventures of the night before, but I saw only the sweet face of Louise Dacour, and my heart trembled as I thought of the abyss I needs must span ere I could stand beside her, an equal in rank and fortune. Yet a stout heart might accomplish even that.
A tapping on the floor brought me back to earth, and I heard Richelieu’s voice calling me.
“De Brancas,” he cried, “de Brancas, tell me that it was not all a dream.”
“A dream,” I answered; “then I, too, have dreamed, monsieur.”