An hour later, everybody being tired, all was perfectly still.  The prisoner then rose softly, and felt about on tiptoe on the chimneypiece, on the furniture, and even in his clothes, for the key which he hoped to find.  He could not find it.  He could not be mistaken, nevertheless, in the tender interest of the young girl, and he could not believe that she was deceiving him.  The marquis’s room had a window which opened upon the street, and a door which gave access to a shabby gallery which did duty for a balcony, whence a staircase ascended to the principal rooms of the house.  This gallery hung over the courtyard, being as high above it as the window was from the street.  The marquis had only to jump over one side or the other:  he hesitated for some time, and just as he was deciding to leap into the street, at the risk of breaking his neck, two taps were struck on the door.  He jumped for joy, saying to himself as he opened, “I am saved!” A kind of shadow glided into the room; the young girl trembled from head to foot, and could not say a word.  The marquis reassured her with all sorts of caresses.

“Ah, sir,” said she, “I am dead if we are surprised.”

“Yes,” said the marquis, “but your fortune is made if you get me out of here.”

“God is my witness that I would with all my soul, but I have such a bad piece of news——­”

She stopped, suffocated with varying emotions.  The poor girl had come barefooted, for fear of making a noise, and appeared to be shivering.

“What is the matter?” impatiently asked the marquis.

“Before going to bed,” she continued, “M. the provost has required from my father all the keys of the house, and has made him take a great oath that there are no more.  My father has given him all:  besides, there is a sentinel at every door; but they are very tired; I have heard them muttering and grumbling, and I have given them more wine than you told me.”

“They will sleep,” said the marquis, nowise discouraged, “and they have already shown great respect to my rank in not nailing me up in this room.”

“There is a small kitchen garden,” continued the girl, “on the side of the fields, fenced in only by a loose hurdle, but——­”

“Where is my horse?”

“No doubt in the shed with the rest.”

“I will jump into the yard.”

“You will be killed.”

“So much the better!”

“Ah monsieur marquis, what have, you done?” said the young girl with grief.

“Some foolish things! nothing worth mentioning; but my head and my honour are at stake.  Let us lose no time; I have made up my mind.”

“Stay,” replied the girl, grasping his arm; “at the left-hand corner of the yard there is a large heap of straw, the gallery hangs just over it—­”