I know not why it was, but the jingling notes of the tune my friend whistled irritated me beyond measure, and at last, at the corner of the Rue Perrault, I could stand it no longer, and, reining in, held out my hand.
'I must say good-bye here, Belin. We will meet again, and meet in better times, I trust, for me. In the meanwhile let me thank you, my friend. The rest of my business lies in my own hand.'
He laughed and said, 'Not yet good-bye; and as for your business, there is some of it in Coiffier's wooden ball. I would open that here before you decide to leave me.'
'Morbleu! You all seem to be determined to speak to me in riddles. Why can you not say plainly what you mean? And, besides, this is no place to read.'
'It is as good as any other. See here, d'Auriac! I slipped out of the King's cabinet as he spoke to you, and told Madame how your affair was progressing. She herself had something to communicate to you. The matter was pressing, and as things stood she could not tell you there. As for your being treated like a pawn, I give you my word it was beyond me to help that. But if you come with me you will learn many things within the hour. In the meantime open the ball, man! It was a lucky thing Coiffier was there.'
Without any further hesitation I drew forth Coiffier's gift. It was, as I have said, a hollow, wooden globe, and was made in two parts, which could be joined together or separated by a turn of the wrist. I held it in my hands for a moment or so and then opened it, and had just pulled forth the paper it contained, when by ill chance, as it seemed, the Capuchin, who was urging his mule past us, brushed violently against my horse, with the result that the paper slipped from between my fingers and fluttered to earth. Couronne, after her first start, was steady enough, but the monk's ill-conditioned mule kicked and plunged, bringing him apparently heavily to the ground. He fell exactly over the paper and lay there for a moment, face downwards, resting on one elbow. I sprang down, as much to get the paper as to assist him, but as I did so, he scrambled to his feet with 'A hundred pardons, monsieur, for my clumsiness,' and then hastily turned and hurried after his mule, which was already many yards ahead, behaving after its kind, and whose speed was not diminished by the sticks, stones, and oaths flung at him; and there was a roar of laughter—a mob will laugh or hiss at the merest trifles—as the lank figure of the Capuchin sped along in pursuit of his beast and vanished after him down a side street.
Belin himself joined in the merriment, and I picked up the paper, muddy and much soiled. Smoothening it out against the flap of my saddle, I made out the words, 'To-night, under the limes in the Tuileries—at compline.' There was no doubt about the writing, and, thrusting the precious scrap into my breast-pocket, I remounted. As I did so de Belin said:
'Well, have you changed your plans?'
'Partly, but I think I shall go back to my lodging.'
'Do nothing of the kind as yet. I have asked Pantin to meet us at the Two Ecus, your own ordinary. Vallon has gone to call him. You can give him any orders there. You owe me as much as to yield to me in this.'