“The estates are large, I believe, and you recollect the case of Mademoiselle de Luynes.”
He leaned back helplessly in his chair, biting his lip, and twisting at his moustache, and as I looked at him, tossed with mental agony, and thought, too, of the hideous story of which I had just reminded him, my good angel made a last effort, and touched me with pity. I went up to him, and put my hand on his shoulder.
“See, Marcilly!” I said. “You want a cool brain and a steady nerve for this, and that you will never have as long as your wife is here. Why not get her away? Let her join the Princess at St. Loup at once, and thence go on with her to her refuge with the Constable.”
His face brightened at once. “If that could be done! But Catherine will never let her go.”
“Leave that to me,” I said. “I will manage that. What is more natural than that madame should come to Cipierre’s house to see you? She has been here constantly before, and her coming will arouse no suspicion. From the Martroi to St. Loup is scarce two hours’ ride, and she would be with the Princess before any one even began to suspect that the bird had flown.”
He sprang up and wrung my hand.
“Do this,” he said, “and you will loose a mill-stone from my neck.”
“Make your mind easy; and is it not time to start?”
“In a half-hour,” he said, “when we have breakfasted.”
Punctually to the half-hour we started. Cipierre had already gone on to the palace, but four of his Swiss troopers came with us, and, confident in the King’s pardon, and in the protection afforded by an escort wearing the colors of the Captain of Orleans, we had no fear of meeting any one, not even the Guise himself.