"And now," I said, "let us be off. If you are wise you will never set foot here again."
She laughed sadly, and we went out together into the lonely Passage of Pity. It was growing dark now, and threading our way through the labyrinth of streets we reached the river face. Here La Marmotte stopped, and abruptly wished me farewell; but I stayed her, thanking her from my heart for her good deed, and ventured, with the utmost diffidence, to say that if she were in need of a friend she could count on me. She understood.
"Nay, monsieur," she said, "for me there is but one way, and that is to follow the light that has come to me. We will never meet again; and, perhaps, what I have done to-day may be some recompense for the past. Farewell!"
Thus we parted; and from that day I never saw or heard of her again. I may mention that when things changed with me I made every effort to discover her, but without avail; and, when, some time after, Torquato Trotto paid the penalty of his crimes, he asserted, even under the rack, that he knew nothing of her, and that she had fled from him. This I believe to be truth, and can only hope that the poor, storm-tossed life found a haven of refuge at last.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE MASQUERADE
That night it was my duty to take the guard outside the Queen's apartments. Circumstances had made it impossible for me to have speech with De Lorgnac, and Le Brusquet was nowhere to be seen, so that I was unable to inform them of what I knew.
Full of the discovery I had made, and with my thoughts running on the danger that threatened mademoiselle, I paced backward and forward before the door leading into the ante-room, my long shadow keeping me ghostly company. It was the night of the great masque given by the King in honour of his Diane's birthday—the masque in which she was to flaunt in the Crown diamonds—and, as may be imagined, there was not a soul to be seen in the gallery that curved before me into dim, mysterious gloom.
Now and again I thought I heard a laugh and the sound of subdued voices from within the ante-room; but, guessing that the mice were probably playing within, I paid no heed, and, being a little tired, seated myself on the coffer that lay in the shadow near the door, and stared moodily into the silence, absorbed in my own sombre reflections.
On a sudden I heard the patter of footsteps—hasty, rapid footsteps coming towards me along the gallery. I challenged, and got the password on the instant in Le Brusquet's voice, and in a half-minute the little man emerged from the gloom and stood beside me.