Felix," he said. "For where the St.
Quentins would be without you, I tremble to think."

I set out a new man. In three steps, it seemed to me, we had reached the
city gate, to find the way blocked by a company of twenty or thirty
horse, the St. Quentin uniform flaunting gay in the sun. The nearest
trooper set up a shout at sight of us, when Vigo, coming out suddenly
from behind a nag, took M. le Comte in his big embrace. He released him
immediately, looking immensely startled at his own demonstration.

M. Etienne laughed out at him.

"Be more careful, I beg you, Vigo! You will make me imagine myself of
some importance."

"I thought you swallowed up," Vigo growled. "You had been here--I
couldn't get a trace of you."

"I was killing Lucas."

"Sacre! He's dead?"

"Dead."

"That's the best morning's work ever you did, M. Etienne."

"Have you horse for us, Vigo?"

"Of course. Some of the men will walk. I suppose we're leaving Paris to
buy you out of the Bastille?"

"Not worth it, eh, Vigo?"

"Yes," said Vigo, gravely--"yes, M. Etienne. You are worth it."

Vigo's troop was but slow-moving, as some of the horses carried double,
some were loaded with chattels. M. Etienne and I, on the duke's
blood-chargers, soon left the cavalcade behind us. Before I knew it, we
were halted at the outpost of the camp. My lord gave his name.

"To be sure!" cried the sentry. "We've orders about you. You dine with
the king, M. de Mar."

"Mordieu! I do?"

"You do. Orders are to take you to him out of hand. Captain!"

The officer lounged out of the tavern door.

"Captain, M. de Mar."

"Oh, aye!" cried the captain, coming forward with brisk interest. "M. de
Mar, you're the child of luck. You dine with the king."

"I am the child of bewilderment, captain."

"And you've not too much time to recover from it, M. le Comte. You are
to go straight to the king."

"I may go to M. de St. Quentin's lodgings first?"

"No, monsieur; straight to the king."

"What! in my shirt?"

"I can't help it, monsieur," the captain laughed. "I suppose the king
did not guess you were coming in your shirt. Anyway, his order was to
fetch you direct. And direct you go. But never care. Our king's no
stickler for toggery. He's known what it is himself to lack for a coat."

"I might wash my face, then."

"Certainly. No harm in that."

So M. Etienne went into the tournebride and washed his face. And that
was all the toilet he made for audience wi