“Now off with his hat and cloak,” continued Richelieu.
I obeyed, and still the regent made no sign. I began to fear some further trap.
“What now, monsieur?” I asked.
“In faith, I do not know,” said Richelieu. “I might, indeed, don the cloak and hat, go out and order the guard away so that we could escape, but if we both leave, who will guard the regent? We might tie him, but it must needs be most securely.”
“Go, go, monsieur!” I cried, seizing his sword, but still keeping the point at the regent’s breast. “Put on the cloak and hat and go. I will stay, and I answer for it he will make no outcry.”
“Impossible,” said Richelieu. “I go and leave you, my friend?”
“Yes, yes,” I answered. “It is not with me a matter of life and death. Besides, with my sword at his heart I shall be able to make my own terms.”
“True,” said Richelieu, but he still hesitated and turned towards Mlle. de Valois.
“Ah, Charlotte,” he said, dropping on one knee before her and lifting her hand to his lips, “it seems that I am never to be permitted to tell you how I love you. But what is this?” he cried, looking up into her eyes to find them closed. “Oh, what has happened?”
Mlle. Dacour hastened to her.