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It was La Marmotte, and she looked into his face with eager, searching eyes as she asked: "What does this mean? more treachery?" There was a bitter note in her voice, and the Italian looked at her steadily. "She grows old," his thoughts ran on, "old, and exacting; I must end this."
I have but a scratch that will keep till the morning." "But I insist," said mademoiselle. And Trotto put in with his soft voice: "Mademoiselle, I am something of a leech, and will see to monsieur's hurt at once." And then with a look at La Marmotte: "Perhaps mademoiselle would like to repose until my men return. I expect them every moment, and we could then arrange for your safe passage."
"It is her," murmured La Marmotte with a sudden relief; and then she almost spoke the words aloud, "she prays." And after a moment of hesitation, she crept up softly, step by step, and stood behind mademoiselle, a tumult of strange thoughts in her soul. La Marmotte quivered from head to foot. Near her was a small table.
This window faced the one I was standing at, but was placed about a yard or so higher, so that anyone standing there could look into the room in which we were. All this I took in, and then turned to La Marmotte. "Monsieur," she said, "that house is where Antoine de Mouchy lives, and where, within an hour's time, he is to meet the Vidame and some others to discuss their plan.
There was a small, bright glow, then the flame of some burning paper, that threw out the figure of La Marmotte as she lit a candle, and holding it out motioned me up a rickety staircase that faced us. I had drawn my poniard as I stepped in, so evil-looking was the place, and she caught the gleam of the steel. "It is needless," she said coldly; "we are alone."
La Marmotte's heart almost stood still, and the candlestick she held all but fell from her trembling hand, as the poor wretch thought of the wrath that would overtake her if her charge escaped. But it was impossible! It could not be! And La Marmotte made another step forward, and as she looked she saw a white-robed figure kneeling at a prie-dieu, half concealed by the valence of the bed.
"True as I kneel before you." And, springing to her feet, La Marmotte went on: "But there is no time to waste; come come at once. A h!" For the loud report of the arquebus, and Pierrebon's angry shout, rang out; then followed the rasping of swords, and the two stood speechless, staring at each other. But mademoiselle was brave, and she came to herself. "Oh! they are killing him."
"It must have been a cat; the wild cats here grow to enormous size." And then taking up a candlestick he continued: "I will myself see mademoiselle to her apartment." But La Marmotte spoke now. "Mademoiselle comes to my room. There is none other ready." The captain bowed and smiled. "I will light you there then," he said, and led the way to the door.
I trust, however, that your wounds do not hurt you?" "Wounds!" exclaimed mademoiselle. "You are hurt, and you have said never a word! Why did you not tell me? You must have them seen to at once." And she rose from her seat. La Marmotte following her example, and Trotto added his voice to hers, and was thanked with a look. "It is nothing. There is some mistake.
By night no one was ever seen, and, indeed, there were few who would have ventured along the Passage of Pity when the sun went down. Here, then, I stood at the appointed time, staring at the surly row of houses on either side of me and at the dead wall in my face. Twice I paced up and down the length of the street; but there was no sign of La Marmotte.
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