They all laughed.  I, with my cheeks burning like any silly maid’s, set to work to put up our scattered wares.  But despair weighed me down; if we had to remember ceremony we were lost.  The ladies were protesting, declaring they had not made their bargains, and monsieur was smirking and bowing, as if he had the whole night before him.  Our one chance was to bolt; to charge past the sentry and flee as from the devil.  I pulled monsieur’s arm again, and muttered in his ear: 

“She knows us; she’s gone to tell.  We must run for it.”

At this moment there arose from down the corridor piercing shriek on shriek, the howls of a young child frantic with rage and terror.  At the same time sounded other different cries, wild, outlandish chattering.

“The baby!  It’s Toto!  Oh, ciel!” Mme. de Mayenne gasped.  “Help, mesdames!” She rushed from the room, Mme. de Montpensier at her heels, all the rest following after.

All, that is, but one.  Mlle. de Montluc started as the rest, but at the threshold paused to let them pass.  She flung the door to behind them, and ran back to monsieur, her face drawn with terror, her hand outstretched.

“Monsieur, monsieur!” she panted.  “Go! you must go!”

He seized her hand in both of his.

“O Lorance!  Lorance!”

She laid her left hand on his for emphasis.

“Go! go!  An you love me, go!”

For answer he fell on his knees before her, covering those sweet hands with kisses.

The door was flung open; Mlle. de Tavanne stood on the threshold.  They started apart, monsieur leaping to his feet, mademoiselle springing back with choking cry.  But it was too late; she had seen us.

She was rosy with running, her little face brimming over with mischief.  She flitted into the room, crying: 

“I knew it!  I knew it was M. de Mar!  The gray eyes!  M. le Duc has done with him as he thought proper, forsooth!  Well, I have done as I thought proper.  I unchained Mme. de Montpensier’s monkey and threw him into the nursery, where he’s scared the baby nearly into spasms.  Toto carried the cloth-of-gold coverlet up on top of the tester, where he’s picking it to pieces, the darling!  They won’t be back—­you’re safe for a while, my children.  I’ll keep watch for you.  Make good use of your time.  Kiss her well, monsieur.”

“Mademoiselle, you are an angel.”

“No, she is the angel,” Mlle. Blanche laughed back at him.  “I’m but your warder.  Have no fear; I’ll keep good watch.  Here, you in the petticoats, that were a boy the other night, go to the farther door.  Mme. de Nemours takes her nap in the second room beyond.  You watch that door; I’ll watch the corridor.  Farewell, my children!  Peste! think you Blanche de Tavanne is so badly off for lovers that she need grudge you yours, Lorance?”

She danced out of the door, while I ran across to my station, Mlle. de Montluc standing bewildered, ardent, grateful, half laughing, half in tears.