"You must know where, within three minutes," replied the Count, who, in general interpreted pretty accurately the external signs and symbols of what was going on in Riquet's heart. "You must know where, within three minutes, and that where must be here, by my side. Maître Riquet, remember, though somewhat indulgent in the saloon or the cabinet, I am not to be trifled with in the field. Now, gentlemen, what were we speaking of just now? Oh, these ladies. Have you any idea of what they were in prison for? Doubtless, for worshipping God according to their consciences. That is the great crime now. But I did not know that they had begun to persecute poor women;" and a shade of deep melancholy came over his fine features, as he thought of what might be the situation of Clémence de Marly.
"Why, it would seem, Sir," replied one of the gentlemen, "from what I can hear, that the ladies were not there as prisoners; but were two charitable persons of the town of Thouars, who had come to give comfort and consolation to our poor friend, Monsieur de l'Estang."
"God's blessing will be upon them," replied the Count, "for it was a noble and a generous deed in such times as these. But here comes Master Riquet, with our two newly arrived friends. Good heavens, my old acquaintance of the Bastille! Sir, I am very glad to see you free, and should be glad to see you in this poor province of Poitou, could we but give you any other entertainment than bullets and hard blows, and scenes of sorrow or of strife."
"No matter, no matter, my young friend," replied the old Englishman; "to such entertainment I am well accustomed. It has been meat and drink to me from my youth; and though I cannot exactly say that I will take any other part in these transactions, being bound in honour, in some sense, not to do so, yet I will take my part in any dangers that are going, willingly. But do not let me stop you, if you are going to ask any questions of that fellow, who came the last five or six miles with me; for if you don't get him out of the hands of that rascal of yours, there will be no such thing as truth in him in five minutes."
"Come hither, Peter," cried the Count. "Maître Riquet you have face enough for any thing; so stand here. Now, Peter, the truth at one word! What was it that Riquet was telling you not to tell me?"
"Why, my Lord," replied the man, glancing his eye from his master to the valet, and the awe of the former in a moment overpowering the awe of the latter; "why, my Lord, he was saying, that there was no need to tell your Lordship that I never delivered the order that he gave me to deliver at the gates of the Bastille."
The Count stood for a moment gazing on him thunderstruck. "You never delivered the order!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean to say you never delivered the order he gave you for my liberation?"
"No, my Lord," replied the man, beginning to quake in every limb for fear that he had done something wrong. "I never did deliver the order. But I'll tell your Lordship why. I thought there was no use of delivering it, for just as I was walking up to do so, and had made myself look as like a courier of the court as I could, I saw you yourself going along the Rue St. Antoine, with two boys staring up in your face, and I thought I might only make mischief for myself or you if I went and said any thing more about the matter. When I knew you were free, I thought that was quite enough."
"Certainly, certainly," replied the Count; "but in the name of Heaven, then, by whom have I been delivered?"
"Why, my Lord, that is difficult to say," replied Riquet, "but not by that fellow who has brought me back the order as I gave it to him; and now--as very likely your Lordship would wish to know--I told him not to tell you, simply because it would tease you to no purpose, and take away from me the honour of having set your Lordship free, without doing you any good."