“The Constable! Long live the Constable!” and louder and yet more loud came another cry, “Long live Condé! The Prince is saved!”
De Bresy almost rose from his seat, but the Prince bade him play on, paying no heed to the cries, and half turning his back on Achon. Richelieu and Comminges had dashed from the room, and for once Monsieur of Arles stood irresolute and amazed. The suspense lasted but for a moment. There came another shout and the tramp of hurrying feet. It was Richelieu returning with a pale face, but around and behind him were other figures. There was Cipierre, his grim face beaming; there was another who came with halting steps of pain, but his eye was bright, and there was a flush of joy on the cheek of the great Chancellor of France. There were others I cannot name, but as Richelieu hurried to Achon’s side and whispered something in his ear, something that turned his cheek to ashes, there was a joyous shout of “Bourbon, Notre Dame!” and Ponthieu came through the crowd. He pressed to the Prince’s side, and, leaning over the table, said low, but still loud enough for me to hear:
“Notre homme est croqué—the King is dead.”
Condé looked up quietly. Then he turned to de Bresy and spread his cards face upward on the table, saying, with a smile:
“You see—I hold four aces.”
The next minute the room was filled and the passage choked with men. On all sides I heard the words, “The King is dead!” “The Constable is at the gates!” All around me were the men of the Queen’s guards; the others had gone. There was a face there I knew well, and as yet the man there did not know my shame. It was Lorgnac, and as our eyes met he stepped to my side, his poniard in his hand. With two or three quick cuts he freed me, and then shook me by the hand.
“It is all over with them,” he said, with a smile. “You are safe now.”
CHAPTER XXIII
THE AFTERMATH
I made no answer to Lorgnac, but stood for a moment incapable of thought or action; hardly, indeed, realizing that I was free from my shameful bonds. Around me was a sea of faces, and I felt as if all eyes were upon me, although in the gloom one could scarce see a sword’s point ahead. All that could be discerned was a confused crowd of shadows, with here and there the flash of a breastplate or the gleam of a steel cap, as they caught and reflected some lingering ray of light. The thronged room beyond was, however, in brightness. Some one had lit the lamps there, and from where I was leaning against the wall I could see an ever-changing crowd pressing round the spot where Condé stood. High words were passing, too, and there was a veiled threat in the Chancellor’s voice, as, leaning his shaking limbs on his crutches, he turned on Achon in answer to some speech made by the bishop.
“Monsieur! There is no lieutenant-general of the kingdom now. That office died with the late King.”