On arrival at the Rue Tire Boudin I summoned Pierrebon, and informing him of the state of affairs told him to have all in readiness for our departure that night. This being over, and finding that I had still over two hours before me, I retraced my steps to the Louvre. I went to the tennis courts, where the King was playing a match against Monsieur d'Aumale, and mingling amongst the onlookers sought to pick up as much information as I could glean about the proceedings of the council held that day. M. de Tolendal, who had been on guard in the council room, said that there were only four there, and that amongst the four were De Mouchy and Caraffa the Legate.
"It is not war they talked about, I am sure," he went on, "as neither the Constable nor Vieilleville was present. I dare swear it was all about those cursed Huguenots; but we will hear soon—ha! good stroke!" And he turned from me towards the game.
Seeing that there was nothing to be picked up here I took myself off, and after a little found myself upon the Ladies' Terrace. The afternoon was hot, and the Terrace was deserted, but in the shade of the hedgerow on the opposite side of the lawn a solitary figure was seated looking over a small packet of letters. I looked, and saw it was De Ganache himself. He had changed much from the day we first met. His face was thin and sunken; there was a red spot on each cheek and a fierce light in his hollow eyes. For a moment I stood watching him, and then, having made up my mind, stepped up to him. As I approached he stared at me with his livid glance and then rose slowly to his feet. So deadly a hate shone on his face that for a second it came to me to turn away and leave him to his fate; but, fallen as he was, I could not let him go to his death without a word or a sign. So I walked straight up to him.
"Monsieur, a word with you."
He simply looked at me. I saw his forehead flush hot, and he passed his tongue over dry lips, and then, as if controlling himself with an effort, he turned from me. But I called out:
"M. de Ganache, this is life and death. I have come to warn——"
He flung round on his heel and faced me once more, his hand on the hilt of his poniard.
"Begone!" he said, "begone! else I may slay you where you stand! I——" And his voice failed him, but his eyes glared like those of a boar at bay.
"Monsieur," I said calmly, "fifty windows look down upon us, and there may be a hundred eyes watching us. If you wish it, I will cross swords with you with pleasure, but listen to what I say first. Your life, and the lives of your friends of your faith, hang on a hair. The council to-day has applied anew the edicts. As you value your life, get your fastest horse and leave Paris at once."
"In what tavern have you heard this?" he sneered.