He came with a message from her brother.

“Monsieur de Vivonne regrets, madame, that the rumour of your departure has got abroad among the court.”

“What do I care for that, monsieur?” she retorted, with all her old spirit.

“He says, madame, that the courtiers may assemble at the west gate to see you go; that Madame de Neuilly will be there, and the Duchesse de Chambord, and Mademoiselle de Rohan, and—­”

The lady shrank with horror at the thought of such an ordeal.  To drive away from the palace, where she had been more than queen, under the scornful eyes and bitter gibes of so many personal enemies!  After all the humiliations of the day, that would be the crowning cup of sorrow.  Her nerve was broken.  She could not face it.

“Tell my brother, monsieur, that I should be much obliged if he would make fresh arrangements, by which my departure might be private.”

“He bade me say that he had done so, madame.”

“Ah! at what hour then?”

“Now.  As soon as possible.”

“I am ready.  At the west gate then?”

“No; at the east.  The carriage waits.”

“And where is my brother?”

“We are to pick him up at the park gate.”

“And why that?”

“Because he is watched; and were he seen beside the carriage, all would be known.”

“Very good.  Then, monsieur, if you will take my cloak and this casket we may start at once.”

They made their way by a circuitous route through the less-used corridors, she hurrying on like a guilty creature, a hood drawn over her face, and her heart in a flutter at every stray footfall.  But fortune stood her friend.  She met no one, and soon found herself at the eastern postern gate.  A couple of phlegmatic Swiss guardsmen leaned upon their muskets upon either side, and the lamp above shone upon the carriage which awaited her.  The door was open, and a tall cavalier swathed in a black cloak handed her into it.  He then took the seat opposite to her, slammed the door, and the caleche rattled away down the main drive.

It had not surprised her that this man should join her inside the coach, for it was usual to have a guard there, and he was doubtless taking the place which her brother would afterwards occupy.  That was all natural enough.  But when ten minutes passed by, and he had neither moved nor spoken, she peered at him through the gloom with some curiosity.  In the glance which she had of him, as he handed her in, she had seen that he was dressed like a gentleman, and there was that in his bow and wave as he did it which told her experienced senses that he was a man of courtly manners.  But courtiers, as she had known them, were gallant and garrulous, and this man was so very quiet and still.  Again she strained her eyes through the gloom.  His hat was pulled down and his cloak was still drawn across his mouth, but from out of the shadow she seemed to get a glimpse of two eyes which peered at her even as she did at him.