“Quick!  Du Bouchage,” said Anne to his brother.  “The king says yes now; but in five minutes he will say no.”

“Thanks, my brother,” said Bouchage; “I was as anxious as you to get away.”

CHAPTER V.

The execution.

The councilors entered.

“Well, gentlemen,” said the king, “is there anything new?”

“Sire,” replied the president, “we come to beg your majesty to promise life to the criminal; he has revelations to make, which, on this promise, we shall obtain.”

“But have we not obtained them?”

“Yes, in part; is that enough for your majesty?”

“No,” said Catherine; “and the king has determined to postpone the execution, if the culprit will sign a confession substantiating his depositions before the judge.”

“Yes,” said Henri, “and you can let the prisoner know this.”

“Your majesty has nothing to add?”

“Only that there must be no variation in the confessions, or I withdraw my promise; they must be complete.”

“Yes, sire; with the names of the compromised parties.”

“With all the names.”

“Even if they are of high rank?”

“If they were those of my nearest relations.”

“It shall be as your majesty wishes.”

“No misunderstanding, M. Brisson.  Writing materials shall be brought to the prisoner, and he will write his confessions; after that we shall see.”

“But I may promise?”

“Oh! yes, promise.”

M. Brisson and the councilors withdrew.

“He will speak, sire,” said the queen; “and your majesty will pardon him.  See the foam on his lips.”

“No,” said Catherine; “he is seeking something.  What is it?”

“Parbleu!” said Henri; “he seeks M. le Duc de Guise, M. le Duc de Parma, and my brother, the very Catholic king.  Yes, seek, wait; do you believe that there is more chance of rescue on the Place de Greve than on the route from Flanders?”

Salcede had seen the archers sent off for the horses, and he understood that the order for punishment was about to be given, and it was then that he bit his lips till they were covered with blood, as the queen had remarked.

“No one,” murmured he; “not one of those who had promised me help.  Cowards! cowards!”

The horses were now seen making their way through the crowd, and creating everywhere an opening which closed immediately behind them.  As they passed the corner of the Rue St. Vannerie, a handsome young man, whom we have seen before, was pushed forward impatiently by a young lad, apparently about seventeen.  It was the Vicomte Ernanton de Carmainges and the mysterious page.

“Quick!” cried the page; “throw yourself into the opening, there is not a moment to lose.”

“But we shall be stifled; you are mad, my little friend.”

“I must be near,” cried the page, imperiously.  “Keep close to the horses, or we shall never arrive there.”