"Monsieur," said D'Arbel, "a few moments yet remain for you to attempt to enable the Vicomte to escape."
"Whither? how?" said the Duke, who was overcome with terror and distress.
"Through the garden. The gate on la rue Baylonne perhaps is yet practicable."
"D'Arbel is right," said the Duke, "come, come;" and he took his son's hand, and led him to the end of the room where he opened the window fronting on the portico.
"Here," said the secretary, "is a cloak and hat with a broad brim which will somewhat conceal the features of the Vicomte." He placed his own hat and cloak on Rene's head and hurried him towards the outer door.
"Remain here, my daughter," said the Duke to Marie, "to detain them as long as possible, and enable us to escape."
"This way—this way, Duke," said the secretary to M. d'Harcourt and his son. "The principal alley is too much exposed for us to escape unseen." He led them close to the wall where the foliage was very thick, and thence to the gate. The Duke's eyes were so filled with tears, that he stumbled at every step, and his son was forced to guide him to the goal of all their hopes. At last they stood at the gate. The Secretary took a pass-key from his pocket, put it in the lock and opened the door. Here, though, were six officers of police. The Duke uttered a painful cry, and to keep from falling leaned against the wall.
"I am your prisoner," said D'Harcourt to these men. "I am the Vicomte."
"We know you well enough. You have long been pointed out to us, and we have had our eyes on you."
The Duke, when he heard these words, felt as if his heart would break, for a cruel idea occurred to him. His son had long been under surveillance, and had also for a long time deceived his father.