"'Well, then, what game are you trying to play on me, my good fellow? Come, leave the room, you and your people; for what I have to say to this gentleman must be kept secret between ourselves. What! don't you hear me? Leave us, I say!'
"They did finally leave; and Perrot walked coolly up to Monsieur de Montgommery, who had been relieved of his gag.
"'My brave Perrot!' said the count, who had recognized his squire at once, 'how do you happen to be here?'
"'You shall know, Monseigneur; but we have not a moment to lose now. Listen.'
"In a few words he told him of the scene which had transpired in Madame Diane's apartment, and of the determination which Monsieur de Montmorency seemed to have taken of burying forever the terrible secret of the insult with the insulter. Thus it was necessary to escape this fatal captivity by a bold and desperate stroke.
"'And what do you mean to do, Perrot?' asked Monsieur de Montgommery. 'See, there are eight of them against us two, and here we are not in the house of our friends,' he added bitterly.
"'Never mind that!' said Perrot; 'do you just let me do all the acting and the talking, and you are saved, you are free.'
"'What's the use, Perrot?' said the count, gloomily. 'What more have I to do with life or liberty? Diane does not love me! Diane hates me and betrays me!'
"'Put by all remembrance of that woman, and think of your child, Monseigneur.'
"'You are right, Perrot; I have already neglected him too much, poor little Gabriel, and God is just to punish me for it. For his sake, then, I ought and I will try to avail myself of this last chance of safety which you hold out to me, my friend. But, in the first place, listen to me: if this chance fails me, if this undertaking, audacious to the point of madness, which you are about to venture on, fails, I do not wish to bequeath to the orphan for his inheritance, Perrot, the results of my unhappy fate; I do not wish to subject him after my disappearance from among the living to the powerful hatred to which I have been forced to yield. Swear to me, then, that if the prison or the tomb opens its doors to me, and you survive me, Gabriel shall never know from you the circumstances of his father's disappearance from the world. If he should come to know this terrible secret, he would try some day either to avenge me or to rescue me, and would ruin himself. I shall have a bitter enough reckoning to settle with his mother, without adding that burden to it. Let my son live in happiness, free from anxiety about his father's past! Swear this for me, Perrot, and do not consider yourself relieved from the obligation of this oath unless the three actors in the scene you have described to me die before I do, and the dauphin (who will be king then, no doubt), Madame Diane, and Monsieur de Montmorency carry their potent hatred with them to the grave, and can no longer harm my child. Then, in that very improbable concurrence of events, let him try, if he will, to learn of my whereabouts and to find me. But until then, let him know as little as everybody else—yes, less than anybody else—of his father's end. Do you promise me this, Perrot! Do you swear it? I will not give myself up to your rash and, I greatly fear, fruitless devotion, except on that one condition, Perrot.'