The curé bowed.
“I will also assume full responsibility for anything that follows,” added d’Argenson. “What I may ask you to do will be somewhat irregular, Monsieur, but, believe me, it will be just.”
“M. d’Argenson’s assurance is more than sufficient,” and the curé bowed again. “His passion for justice is well known.”
Who could think of opposing the Lieutenant of Police—this man who carried all before him? Certainly not the curé of a small church!
“I will tell you one thing more, Monsieur,” he added. “This girl has not been ill—she has been imprisoned. She will come to the altar faint and trembling, not from illness, but from horror. We are here to save her. I do not wish the parties to be forewarned. We will challenge them at the altar. A great deal will depend upon the completeness of the surprise.”
“Very well, Monsieur.”
“Is there any place in which we could remain concealed?”
“You could pause behind the tapestry at the doorway, Monsieur. From there you could hear and see everything.”
A tap at the door interrupted him and, at his bidding, the sacristan entered.
“A wedding-party waiting for you, Monsieur,” he announced to the curé.