The four clerks shook like hares, ran downstairs, jumped on their mules, and took the road back to Paris, telling the host to let their masters know, if they should return to the hotel.

Having seen them disappear, the host went to knock very gently at one of the doors in the corridor.

One of the merchants cried out in a loud voice, “Who is there?”

“Silence!” replied the host, “and come quietly to the door.”

The merchant obeyed, but before opening, he said again—­“Who are you?”

“Your host; do you not recognize my voice?”

“Mon Dieu! what is the matter?”

“Why, it seems you talked rather too freely at table, and the mayor has been informed by some spy, and has sent to arrest you.  Luckily, I thought of showing them your clerks’ room instead of yours, so that they are busy upstairs arresting them.”

“Can this be true?”

“Pure and simple truth.  Make haste, and escape while you can.”

“But my companions?”

“Oh!  I will tell them.”

And while the merchant dressed, the host awakened the others, and very soon they all disappeared, walking on the points of their toes, that they might not be heard.

“That poor hosier!” said they; “it will all fall on him; but it is true he said the most.”

Of course Chicot had received no warning.  While the merchants were flying, he was sleeping peacefully.

The host now descended into the hall, where stood six armed men, one of whom seemed to command the others.

“Well?” said this one.

“I have obeyed your orders, monsieur.”

“Your inn is deserted?”

“Absolutely.”

“The person is not awakened?”

“No.”

“You know in whose name we act, and what cause we serve:  for you serve the same.”

“Yes, certainly; therefore, I have sacrificed, to keep my oath, the money that these men would have spent at my house; for it is said in the oath, ’I will sacrifice my goods to the defense of the Catholic religion.’”

“‘And my life,’ you forget that,” replied the officer.

“Oh!  I have a wife and children.”

“You must obey blindly what is ordered you.”

“Oh!  I will obey.”

“Then go to bed, shut the doors, and whatever you see or hear, do not come out, even if your house is burning.”

“Oh!  I am ruined!”

“I am instructed to indemnify you; here are thirty crowns.”

“My house estimated at thirty crowns!” cried the inn-keeper, piteously.

“We shall not break even a window; complainer that you are.”

“Oh! what a champion of the Holy League.”

The host went away and did as he was told.  Then the officer ordered two men to place themselves under Chicot’s window, while he himself, with the three others, mounted to his room.

“You know the order,” said the officer.  “If he opens and lets us search, and we find what we seek, we will not do him the least harm; but if the contrary happens, a good blow with a dagger; no pistol, you understand—­besides, it is useless, being four against one.”