“I cannot desert you.”
I blazed up in sudden wrath. Would I never be free of this accusing presence?
“Monsieur le Comte, I have not asked your aid—my business is private.”
We stared at each other, surprise and anger in his glance. For an instant I almost hoped he was going to draw on me, for there was no more fierce spirit than Jean de Marcilly; but he controlled himself with a mighty effort.
“Forgive me, Gaspard!” he said, “we are too old in friendship to quarrel. Au revoir! I will meet you at the Porte St. Victor.”
“No!” I said, “I cannot promise to be there. Ride straight from Paris—go straight to the Prince. There are blows to be struck. I—-I will join you later. But leave me now. This house is no refuge, and our ways must be separate.”
“I will wait in any case until compline at the Porte St. Victor,” he repeated, and held out his hand.
I nerved myself to take it, and two minutes later saw him trot out of the courtyard into the street.
CHAPTER II
THE RUE DES LAVANDIERES
The first thing I did after Marcilly’s departure was to replace the glove in my pocket, then I lifted the curtain and walked into my dressing-room. I had a mad thought that Marie might still be there. But I was mistaken. The room was empty. I stepped up to the door leading to the private passage and tried to open it. It was locked from the inside and refused to yield. In her hurry, Marie must have taken the key with her, and turned it in the lock after her when she went.