“You shall smart for this. I know you,” and a gibing answer came back to him:
“I have not the like honor, monsieur, yet I have given a livre for masses for the souls of your dead guards——” and what more he would have said it is impossible to say; for here Lorgnac cut him short, seizing his reins and forcing him back, as he waved us on:
“Pass, gentlemen! We give way to the King’s prisoners.”
And as we went on, the guardsman and Richelieu exchanged glances that crossed each other like two sword-blades.
It was a narrow affair, and escaped but by a hair in ending in bloodshed. That something of import had happened I was sure now; but as yet I could not tell what it was, and neither Achon nor Richelieu knew, too, though they guessed that trouble was afoot, and a pistol barrel gleamed in the latter’s hand, where he rode almost boot-to-saddle with the Prince. And so, on we rode, through the darkening streets, and at last we were again before the prison. Here, as elsewhere, a mob that grew in numbers each moment had gathered, as if expecting our coming; but whether it was the persuasive force in the muzzles of the Emperor’s Pistols, which leered down upon them from the walls, or whether the crowd was simply in a sullen, speechless mood, I know not. All I do know is that there was neither cry nor shout as they passed; but a murmuring that rose and sank, to rise and fall once more, like the distant voice of the sea on a level shore.
And now we halted before the gates. The trumpets pealed out loudly, and the huge doors groaned back in opening, disclosing the courtyard lined with armed men, while de Bresy and Comminges stood in the archway.
“You have them?” asked the former eagerly; and Richelieu answered briefly:
“All but Coqueville.”
As he spoke, both de Bresy and Comminges saw me, and the former said, with a forced laugh:
“So it is my turn again, monsieur. This time you will find it no jest”; but Achon answered him, not I, saying chilly: