service with me."

"I have no doubt he will serve you well. Shall you go to the Rue
Crillon at once?"

"Yes, and endeavour to induce Madame Coutance to leave before the
danger becomes pressing. Well, I must be off, and I wish you were
coming with me."

"I shall follow you," he said resolutely, "and fight for the Crown,
with or without the consent of the Duke."

"Bravo, old friend!" I cried impetuously. "Conde against De Retz or
Orleans I can understand; but Conde against the Throne is another
matter. The point of every honest man's sword should be turned against
a traitor! Why not come now?"

"Because the Duke may yet take the field for the Queen! He must make
up his mind in a few days at the most."

He walked with me to the gate, and after a brief farewell I set out
towards the city. Thus far nothing unusual had occurred, but there
were numerous signs of a coming storm. Most of the shops remained
closed, door and windows were barricaded, sober Black Mantles, armed
from head to foot, stood in groups talking of the situation. The
denizens of the courts still rested, but some, more energetic than
their neighbours, made furtive excursions into the main streets. They
slunk along with pike and club, as if even now half doubtful of their
own strength, though here and there a self-appointed leader shouted for
death to the nobles. But the time was not yet. The appetite of the
_canaille_ was not sufficiently whetted; later they would be ready for
the feast.

Walking quickly to the Rue Crillon, I found the ladies breakfasting,
and was glad to join them, as I had eaten nothing for many hours. They
were not aware of the previous night's riot, and Madame Coutance
laughed at the idea of leaving the city.

"There is no danger," she declared, "and, besides, I have business in
Paris."

"But your friends are gone," I urged. "You have heard that Conde has
turned traitor?"

She flushed angrily, and answered in her masterful way, "I know the
prince has taken up arms to secure his rights."

"In any case he is not here to protect you from the fury of the mob."

"Bah!" said she scornfully, "a pack of cowards! Any one--a woman
even--could send them flying with a riding-whip!"

Argument was thrown away on her, but I did my best, even exaggerating
the danger, and begging her to depart if only for the sake of her
niece. However, she remained obstinate; not, I think, out of mere
bravado, but because she misjudged