He seemed to be coming my way, and the voice sounded quite close. I glanced back, but could see nothing for the quaking mist that rose slowly from the moist banks. Near me was a small boat, and, without more ado, I stepped in and told the boatman to row me down the river. I did this on the impulse of the moment, for I felt it was impossible for me to meet the friar again.
I was soon out in mid-stream, far from his presence and out of earshot of his doleful cry, and the boatman, resting on his oars, allowed the skiff to drift slowly down the current. Finally we floated opposite the façade of the Louvre. It was ablaze with light, and, from where I was, I could distinctly see dark shadows flitting hastily to and fro across the windows, and then the trumpets of the archers sounded the assemble, the brazen notes coming harshly to us across the night.
Leaning forward on his oars as we rocked on the waters, the boatman asked:
“The King goes to-night, does he not, monsieur?”
“So ’tis said,” I answered shortly, and then, “Take me back to the quay.”
The man shrugged his shoulders and did as he was bidden. It was none of his business where his fares wanted to be taken, as long as they paid him; and, as we touched the bank, I dropped a gold Henri into his palm and sprang ashore, leaving him alternately looking at the coin and staring after me in blank amazement as I hurried along the quay. I had, however, effected my object and avoided the Capuchin, and, in my present frame of mind, that was worth even more than the gold piece I placed in the boatman’s hands.
It now wanted but a half-hour to compline, and with a beating heart I hurried on to keep my tryst. The shortest way was by the old church of St. Thomas, and turning sharply to my right, I followed the narrow street until I had passed the Magasins. A little beyond was the riding school, and beyond that again the grove of lime-trees, in which I had told Badehorn to keep the horses. I hastened thither, and found him there.
He had left my house soon after I had, and could give me no news of what had happened since. But I afterward learned that shortly after I had gone, M. de Bresy, with some of the archer-guard, had arrived to effect my arrest, and failing in that, had destroyed almost everything they could lay their hands on. It was the fortune of war; but on a subsequent occasion I had my turn with de Bresy, as will be seen hereafter. Having seen that the horses were safe, I retraced my steps until I came to the wicket-gate. Opening it with my key, I stepped in, and found myself in the outer gardens of the Louvre. A long avenue of trees stretched before me, the grass-grown ride between them in checkered light and shade. To the left rose the walls of the riding school, and beyond was the gray line of the inner wall of the Louvre, and the terraces of the private gardens of the palace; but there was no soul to be seen.
“Marie! Marie!” I called out in a low but clear voice.
There was no answer. Overhead the leaves shivered, and from without the hum of the city came to me, rising and falling with the wind like the murmur of distant waves on a lone seashore.