He was still stooping over her when there came the clang of the falling bridge, and an instant later the clatter of the hoofs of a troop of cavalry, who swept with wave of plumes, toss of manes, and jingle of steel into the courtyard.  At the head was a tall horseman in the full dress of the guards, with a curling feather in his hat, high buff gloves, and his sword gleaming in the sunlight.  He cantered forward towards the scaffold, his keen dark eyes taking in every detail of the group which awaited him there.  De Catinat’s face brightened at the sight of him, and he was down in an instant beside his stirrup.

“De Brissac!”

“De Catinat!  Now where in the name of wonder did you come from?”

“I have been a prisoner.  Tell me, De Brissac, did you leave the message in Paris?”

“Certainly I did.”

“And the archbishop came?”

“He did.”

“And the marriage?”

“Took place as arranged.  That is why this poor woman whom I see yonder has had to leave the palace.”

“I thought as much.”

“I trust that no harm has come to her?”

“My friend and I were just in time to save her.  Her husband lies there.  He is a fiend, De Brissac.”

“Very likely; but an angel might have grown bitter had he had the same treatment.”

“We have him pinioned here.  He has slain a man, and I have slain another.”

“On my word, you have been busy.”

“How did you know that we were here?”

“Nay, that is an unexpected pleasure.”

“You did not come for us, then?”

“No; we came for the lady.”

“And how did this fellow get hold of her?”

“Her brother was to have taken her in his carriage.  Her husband learned it, and by a lying message he coaxed her into his own, which was at another door.  When De Vivonne found that she did not come, and that her rooms were empty, he made inquiries, and soon learned how she had gone.  De Montespan’s arms had been seen on the panel, and so the king sent me here with my troop as fast as we could gallop.”

“Ah, and you would have come too late had a strange chance not brought us here.  I know not who it was who waylaid us, for this man seemed to know nothing of the matter.  However, all that will be clearer afterwards.  What is to be done now?”

“I have my own orders.  Madame is to be sent to Petit Bourg, and any who are concerned in offering her violence are to be kept until the king’s pleasure is known.  The castle, too, must be held for the king.  But you, De Catinat, you have nothing to do now?”

“Nothing, save that I would like well to ride into Paris to see that all is right with my uncle and his daughter.”

“Ah, that sweet little cousin of thine!  By my soul, I do not wonder that the folk know you well in the Rue St. Martin.  Well, I have carried a message for you once, and you shall do as much for me now.”