"I trust so. Keep the rooms for me."
He took the money, opened the door, and bowed low as I went out. He had always treated me well, and I was glad to have the means of settling my debt to him.
A considerable change had taken place in the streets since the morning, and there were numerous signs of the threatening storm. The Black Mantles had disappeared, having shut themselves up in their barricaded houses. Brawny men, half-naked and unwashed, patrolled the roadway, mostly in two and threes, but here and there in larger groups. Every one had a weapon, pike or club, axe or chopper, while a certain proportion carried horse-pistols, or blunderbusses.
I pushed on quickly through the crowd to the Rue Crillon, feeling more alarmed at every step, as the promenaders were rapidly getting ripe for mischief. Thus far I believe they had no settled purpose beyond general plunder, but no one could tell what might happen at any moment. I ought really to have gone on with Le Tellier's note, but I could not make up my mind to abandon the ladies. Most of their friends had followed Condé, Raoul could not leave the Luxembourg, and they were practically alone in Paris.
When I reached the Rue Crillon it was nearly empty, and I managed to pass unobserved into my friends' house. Marie and her aunt were sitting in an upstairs room that faced the street. Madame Coutance was looking out with an expression of scorn, but the girl's face was pale and apprehensive. At first they failed to recognise me in my workman's disguise, but after a second or two the elder lady exclaimed, "Why surely it is M. de Lalande, our cavalier, the knight-errant who goes about rescuing distressed dames. But why this mummery, my trusty knight? What does it mean?"
"That I intend doing my utmost to save your life, madame. Come, before the mob begins to work mischief. Raoul has procured me a permit which will pass us through the gates."
"You have grown wondrous timid of a sudden," she laughed. "I can perceive no sign of danger. There are a few people in the street, but they are quiet enough."
"They are swarming from their dens in all quarters of the town, madame, and they are as likely as not to come here."
"But why should they?" she inquired, and I could only reply by asking why they should not.
"They cannot wish to injure us," exclaimed Marie; "we have done them no harm!" a remark which showed how little the girl understood the passions of an angry mob.