While we were buckling on our swords, and awaiting the horses, Cipierre bluntly asked his nephew:
“And what is your plan, Marcilly? You have not told us that.”
Jean was about to answer, when Sancerre cut in with a laugh.
“Tudieu! My dear vicomte, it is not necessary for us to know as yet. Our business is to smooth the way for these gentlemen at the palace, and to see that a stout horse or two is ready if wanted.”
“But to work in the dark——”
“Exactly! We will take a lesson from the mole, and work in the dark for the present. The light will come to us later on. Now, we do not need it. And more, it has gone compline, and we must hasten. Here are the horses! Come, gentlemen!”
Cipierre shrugged his shoulders, and finished his wine as the old count fastened the clasp of his cloak and led the way down-stairs, where we found the horses ready, and the light from the torches shining in scales of fire on the cuirasses of the governor’s guard.
“To the palace,” said Cipierre, “by the Bourgogne!”
And filing out of the narrow gate, a few steps brought us to the Rue Royale, across which we found the Bourgogne.
Sancerre rode between Marcilly and myself, Cipierre a little ahead, sitting squarely on his Picard horse, and grimly silent.