"No, I ordered it sent to my hôtel before we left the café."
"We walk, then?"
"I am afraid so. I did not think to order my coach, and not a chair will be obtainable on such a night."
"It is as well. The exercise will be a relief."
They started at a good pace up the long, wide thoroughfare that bordered the river, and walked for some minutes in a silence that was replete with sympathy. It was some distance from the gambling-house to the Hôtel de Mailly, Henri's abode, which was situated on the west bank of the Seine, on the Quai des Théatins, just opposite the Tuileries, on the Pont Royal. The wind was coming sharply from the east, bringing with it great, pelting rain-drops that stung the face like bullets. Henri was glad to shield his head from the cutting attack by holding his heavy cloak up before it. Ordinarily the walk at this hour would have been one of no small danger; but to-night even the dwellers in the criminal quarter were undesirous of plying their midnight trade by the river-bank. The cousins had passed the dark cluster of buildings about the old Louvre before either spoke. At length, however, the Marquis broke silence.
"Claude, you have passed a point in life to-day, I think."
"With the two that I won from the King, Henri?"
"Those and the gauntlet of Marie Anne."
There was a little pause. Then Claude said, in a tone whose weary monotony indicated a subject so often thought of as to be trite even in expression:
"Do you—ever regret—that Anne went the way—of the other two? Will she—do you think, finish as did poor little Pauline? Or—will some other send her from her place—as—she did—my brother's wife, Louise?"