“’Tis he,” I said, and we hastened forward.
“In faith, I had almost given you up, de Brancas,” cried Richelieu, gayly, as he wrung my hand and bowed to my companion. “How did you get out of that devil of a prison?”
“Very easily,” I answered, “since the regent was kind enough to open the doors for me.”
“That was thoughtful of him, and I envy you the hour you have passed with this fair lady.”
“Oh, M. le Duc,” cried Mlle. Dacour, “our conversation has been most sober, and concerned mostly with your affairs.”
“De Brancas,” exclaimed the duke, “your friendship goes too far. Forget me, I beg of you, when you are with Mlle. Dacour. I should never forgive myself if I thought that my petty concerns interfered with the discussion of more appropriate and more interesting things.”
“But how did you escape, monsieur?” I inquired. “The regent sent a squadron of horse with you, did he not?”
“Oh, yes,” answered Richelieu, airily, “but they do not know how to ride. Last night we stopped at Chartres. This morning we set off again at a snail’s pace, and by noon reached Orleans, where we stopped for dinner. I was ashamed of the company in which I found myself and determined to leave it. So when the guards were in a half-somnolent state, digesting their dinner like so many pigs, I knocked a couple of them out of the way, mounted my horse, and rode leisurely back to Paris by way of Etampes and Limours. ’Twas too easily done to mention further.”
“But the guards are doubtless on your track, if they have not already reached Paris!” I exclaimed.
“I suppose so,” said Richelieu, carelessly; “but how can they suspect that I am here in the gardens of the Palais Royal talking to Mlle. Dacour and yourself, and that I am presently to see Mlle. de Valois again? Is it not so, mademoiselle?” he asked, turning to Louise.