Again and again I put myself at the door, and at last it crashed open. As I rushed in I saw a kneeling figure before me. One glance, and I called out:
"Diane! It is I—Orrain!"
As she rose to her feet with a cry I put my arms around her to support her, and then the brave heart gave way, and she began to sob on my shoulder. So for a space we stood, and even the savage mob stayed their course, and halted, peering at us across the two bright swords that still held the passage.
It was now that De Mouchy made a last bid for life. In the momentary respite he had from pursuit, as the mob halted, he slunk to the farthest end of the room, and stood there, looking at us, with his back to the wainscoting, his hands resting against it, and moving nervously, as though he searched for something. Already those at the far end of the passage were getting impatient, and angry cries began once more to arise. As I put my arm round Diane to help her away we heard a click. A door concealed in the wainscoting flew open, disclosing a dark passage, into which De Mouchy dived, and vanished in a flash. But his enemies were not to be denied; and this time no effort of De Lorgnac or Le Brusquet could stay them. In his flight, whether overcome by fear, or whether it were otherwise impossible, I cannot say, but De Mouchy neglected to lock the secret door behind him. The mob, blood mad, and now utterly out of hand, filled the room, and rushed after him. For a space we ourselves were hemmed in, so that it was impossible to move, and it was whilst we stood thus that there came a frightful shriek of agony from the dark passage, and then the distant sound of struggling, and again a shriek. God, and they who were there, alone knew what happened; but as the mob swept through the room and into the dark opening that was before them the way became clear, and we passed into the street.
Cartouche was still there, standing where De Lorgnac had left him. At a word from De Lorgnac I lifted mademoiselle into the saddle—though wearied the great grey was well able to bear so light a burden—and holding her there we made our way with all the speed we could out of the Passage of Pity, Le Brusquet holding the horse.
When we reached the river face Le Brusquet turned back and pointed to the sky. There were dark clouds of smoke rolling over the Mathurins.
"Eh bien," he said, "there is the expiation of Dom Antoine de Mouchy!"
A half-hour later we were in the Louvre, and I had surrendered my charge to the Queen.
* * * * * *
About a month after the events I have just described I received the Queen's commands to attend her at St. Germain-en-Laye, and that very evening rode through the gates of the Vieux Chateau.