“Your highness is not generally so susceptible, and but that I believe that we are watched from that street, I would mount in my turn and look.”

“Ma foi! you are right, Aurilly; what does it matter whether we are watched or not?  Go up and look.”

Aurilly made a move forward to obey, when a hasty step was heard, and Henri’s voice, crying, “Monseigneur!”

“You here!” said the duke, while Aurilly bounded back to his side; “you here, comte?—­on what pretext have you quitted your post?”

“Monseigneur,” replied Henri, firmly, “your highness can punish me, if you think proper:  meanwhile, my duty was to come here, and I came.”

The duke glanced toward the window.  “Your duty, comte?  Explain that to me,” said he.

“Monseigneur, horsemen have been seen on the Spanish side of the river, and we do not know if they are friends or enemies.”

“Numerous?” asked the duke anxiously.

“Very numerous, monseigneur.”

“Well, comte, no false bravery:  you will do well to return.  Awake the gendarmes and let us decamp; it will be the most prudent plan.”

“Doubtless, monseigneur; but it will be urgent, I think, to warn my brother.”

“Two men will do.”

“Then I will go with a gendarme.”

“No, no, Du Bouchage; you must come with us.  Peste! it is not at such a moment that I can separate from a defender like you.”

“When does your highness set out?” said Henri, bowing.

“At once, comte.”

“Hola! some one,” cried Henri.

The young ensign came out immediately from the dark street.  Henri gave his orders, and soon the place was filled with gendarmes preparing for departure.  Among them the duke talked with his officers.

“Gentlemen,” said he, “the Prince of Orange is pursuing me, it seems; but it is not proper that a son of France should be taken prisoner.  Let us, therefore, yield to numbers, and fall back upon Brussels.  I shall be sure of life and liberty while I remain among you.”

Then, turning to Aurilly, “You remain,” said he.  “This woman cannot follow us.  Joyeuse will not dare to bring her with him in my presence.  Besides, we are not going to a ball, and the race we shall run would fatigue a lady.”

“Where are you going, monseigneur?”

“To France.  I think my business is over here.”

“But to what part of France.  Does monseigneur think it prudent to return to court?”

“No; I shall stop at one of my castles, Chateau-Thierry, for example.”

“Has your highness decided on that?”

“Yes; Chateau-Thierry suits me in all respects; it is a good distance from Paris, about twenty-eight leagues, and I can watch from thence mm. de Guise, who are half the year at Soissons.  So bring the beautiful unknown to Chateau-Thierry.”

“But, monsieur, perhaps she will not be brought.”

“Nonsense; since Du Bouchage accompanies me, and she follows him, it will be quite natural.”