She nodded towards the forsaken house, and answered, “The young lord who lodged there?  Ah! sirs,” she continued, “he looked gay and handsome, if you’ll believe me, as he came from the king’s court yester even!  As bonny a sight in his satin coat, and his ribbons, as my eyes ever saw!  And to think that they should be hunting him like a rat to-day!”

The woman’s words were few and simple.  But what a change they made in my world!  How my heart awoke from its stupor, and leapt up with a new joy and a new-born hope!  “Did he get away?” I cried eagerly.  “Did he escape, mother, then?”

“Ay, that he did!” she replied quickly.  “That poor fellow, yonder—­he lies quiet enough now God forgive him his heresy, say I!—­kept the door manfully while the gentleman got on the roof, and ran right down the street on the tops of the houses, with them firing and hooting at him:  for all the world as if he had been a squirrel and they a pack of boys with stones!”

“And he escaped?”

“Escaped!” she answered more slowly, shaking her old head in doubt.  “I do not know about that I fear they have got him by now, gentlemen.  I have been shivering and shaking up stairs with my husband—­he is in bed, good man, and the safest place for him —­the saints have mercy upon us!  But I heard them go with their shouting and gunpowder right along to the river, and I doubt they will take him between this and the CHATELET!  I doubt they will.”

“How long ago was it, dame?” I cried.

“Oh! may be half an hour.  Perhaps you are friends of his?” she added questioningly.

But I did not stay to answer her.  I shook Croisette, who had not heard a word of this, by the shoulder.  “There is a chance that he has escaped!” I cried in his ear.  “Escaped, do you hear?” And I told him hastily what she had said.

It was fine, indeed, and a sight, to see the blood rush to his cheeks, and the tears dry in his eyes, and energy and decision spring to life in every nerve and muscle of his face, “Then there is hope?” he cried, grasping my arm.  “Hope, Anne!  Come!  Come!  Do not let us lose another instant.  If he be alive let us join him!”

The old woman tried to detain us, but in vain.  Nay, pitying us, and fearing, I think, that we were rushing on our deaths, she cast aside her caution, and called after us aloud.  We took no heed, running after Croisette, who had not waited for our answer, as fast as young limbs could carry us down the street.  The exhaustion we had felt a moment before when all seemed lost be it remembered that we had not been to bed or tasted food for many hours—­fell from us on the instant, and was clean gone and forgotten in the joy of this respite.  Louis was living and for the moment had escaped.