Behind them was a small, fast-shut door. Perhaps neither of them knew that it opened upon the steps leading down to the crypt.
Lucille sat opposite to Christine in the carriage, which slowly made its way through the crowd. The shouting now was loud enough, for the people of Vayenne, high and low, had always loved Christine de Liancourt. Very beautiful she looked, but very pale, and never a smile played about her lips as she bowed to this side and to that. It was no happy bride who slowly passed on to St. Etienne.
"She is coming," whispered Felix.
Father Bertrand moved slowly toward the altar, the music crashed out, and the cheers from without rose louder and louder, sounding even to the crypt below.
The carriage with its guard, chiefly de Bornais' men, halted, and as Christine descended Felix went forward to meet her, followed by those who had stood beside him. For a moment the porch was empty, and then the crypt door burst open. A strange figure in scarlet and green rushed out, a dozen men following close behind him.
"Long live the Duke!" he cried.
Felix turned sharply, and Christine looked up to meet the steady eyes of Roger Herrick. There was the sharp ring of steel. The men behind him stood with drawn swords in their hands.
"So we return to find treason," said Herrick. "Mademoiselle, you are my prisoner, and will return to the castle. Arrest Count Felix and de Bornais." And then raising his voice he cried: "Let him who dares dispute the will of the Duke!"