He helped himself to some cheese to whet his thirst, and, filling his goblet, raised it to his lips. While he drank Quesnay took up the talk.
“But the other—Marcilly—he has not escaped, has he?”
“No,” said Carouges; “he dies to-morrow.”
My heart began to beat, and Brusquet, putting down his glass, stared at Carouges.
“Come, Carouges, you jest. Vibrac has escaped, and all the other prisoners are free.”
“I see, my King of the Cap and Bells, that there are some things that you do not know. Yes, Marcilly has sinned against the Holy Office, and he dies to-morrow on the Martroi, an hour after sunrise.”
There was silence for a moment, and I strained my ears to catch each word. Then Brusquet asked:
“How do you know? Are you sure?”
Carouges shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
“I command the guards at the scaffold,” he said. Whereupon the men became silent once more, sipping their wine, and looking at one another.