dder was to be attached.

This manoeuvre, transparent to the Duc de Beaufort, was quite
unintelligible to La Ramee.

The game at tennis, which, upon a sign from Grimaud, Monsieur de
Beaufort had consented to play, began in the afternoon. The duke was in
full strength and beat La Ramee completely.

Four of the guards, who were constantly near the prisoner, assisted in
picking up the tennis balls. When the game was over, the duke, laughing
at La Ramee for his bad play, offered these men two louis d'or to go and
drink his health, with their four other comrades.

The guards asked permission of La Ramee, who gave it to them, but not
till the evening, however; until then he had business and the prisoner
was not to be left alone.

Six o'clock came and, although they were not to sit down to table until
seven o'clock, dinner was ready and served up. Upon a sideboard appeared
the colossal pie with the duke's arms on it, and seemingly cooked to a
turn, as far as one could judge by the golden color which illuminated
the crust.

The rest of the dinner was to come.

Every one was impatient, La Ramee to sit down to table, the guards to go
and drink, the duke to escape.

Grimaud alone was calm as ever. One might have fancied that Athos had
educated him with the express forethought of such a great event.

There were moments when, looking at Grimaud, the duke asked himself if
he was not dreaming and if that marble figure was really at his service
and would grow animated when the moment came for action.

La Ramee sent away the guards, desiring them to drink to the duke's
health, and as soon as they were gone shut all the doors, put the
keys in his pocket and showed the table to the prince with an air that
signified:

"Whenever my lord pleases."

The prince looked at Grimaud, Grimaud looked at the clock; it was hardly
a quarter-past six. The escape was fixed to take place at seven o'clock;
there was therefore three-quarters of an hour to wait.

The duke, in order to pass away another quarter of an hour, pretended
to be reading something that interested him and muttered that he wished
they would allow him to finish his chapter. La Ramee went up to him and
looked over his shoulder to see what sort of a book it was that had so
singular an influence over the prisoner as to make him put off taking
his dinner.

It was "Caesar's Commentaries," which La Ramee had lent him, contrary to
the orders of the governor; and La Ramee reso