"'God said, Let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good.'"
After the duke and François had peeped out, and seen no one, the duke began to set forth a variety of schemes as to what they should do. None of these was very wise, and at last madame turned to François. He had disappeared, but presently came again, dressed in the clothes of the dead officer. He wore his sword and pistols, and now, as seen clearly in the light of day, was certainly a queer enough figure. The garments were too short below and too wide above, and over them rose the long face, the broad mouth, and the huge ears. The boys, who looked on their troubles as at an end, set up a shout of laughter.
"The deuce! I shall arrest you, citizens," cried François. "And first, monsieur." He explained that he proposed to tie the duke's hands behind his back, and with, as was usual, one end of the rope in his hand, would conduct the ci-devant into Paris by the Barrière d'Enfer. The weeping widow would follow, with the two children, to see the last of their poor papa.
The duke was disgusted, but pretended to be much amused. "Well, it is a pretty comedy," he said, as Mme. des Illes insisted.
"Dame!" said the thief, "but the tragedy is not far away."
"And what is to come after?" said she. "Had we not better wait till night?"
"No. The guards are doubled at night. It is boldness which will win."
"And what then, François?"
"I must find for you a refuge while I go to see if M. des Illes may not have returned; for, madame, you have assured me that he would be released. Pray God it is so. And what better is there?" The duke was forced to consent.
A rope found in the officer's pocket made part of François's spoil. He tied the duke's hands, and showed him how, at need, a pull would release them. The gold was divided. All else they left. François reported the way clear, and they set out. But the boys giggled so much at the duke and his indignant face that François paused.