“He saw the necessity of consenting.  We proceeded, and as he opened each door, he repeated, always with a sigh, `Ah! my son, who could have believed it?’ `No noise, good Father, no noise,’ I as often answered in my turn.  At length we reached a kind of barrier, just inside the great entrance.  I already fancied myself free, and kept close behind the governor, with my candle in one hand, and my pistol in the other.

“While he was endeavouring to open the heavy gate, one of the servants, who slept in an adjoining room, hearing the noise of the bolts, jumped out of bed, and peeped forth to see what was passing.  The good Father apparently thought him strong enough to overpower me.  He commanded him, most imprudently, to come to his assistance.  He was a powerful ruffian, and threw himself upon me without an instant’s hesitation.  There was no time for parleying—­I levelled my pistol and lodged the contents in his breast! `See, Father, of what mischief you have been the cause,’ said I to my guide; `but that must not prevent us from finishing our work,’ I added, pushing him on towards the last door.  He did not dare refuse to open it.  I made my exit in perfect safety, and, a few paces off, found Lescaut with two friends waiting for me, according to his promise.

“We removed at once to a distance.  Lescaut enquired whether he had not heard the report of a pistol? `You are to blame,’ said I, `why did you bring it charged?’ I, however, could not help thanking him for having taken this precaution, without which I doubtless must have continued much longer at St. Lazare.  We went to pass the night at a tavern, where I made up, in some degree, for the miserable fare which had been doled out to me for nearly three months.  I was very far, however, from tasting perfect enjoyment; Manon’s sufferings were mine. `She must be released,’ said I to my companions:  `this was my sole object in desiring my own liberty.  I rely on your aiding me with all your ingenuity; as for myself, my life shall be devoted to the purpose.’

“Lescaut, who was not deficient in tact, and still less in that better part of valour called discretion, dwelt upon the necessity of acting with extreme caution:  he said that my escape from St. Lazare, and the accident that happened on my leaving it, would assuredly create a sensation; that the lieutenant-general of police would cause a strict search to be made for me, and it would be difficult to evade him; in fine, that, unless disposed to encounter something worse, perhaps, than St. Lazare, it would be requisite for me to remain concealed for a few days, in order to give the enemy’s zeal time to cool.  No doubt this was wise counsel; but, one should have been wise oneself to have followed it.  Such calculating slowness little suited my passion.  The utmost I could bring myself to promise was, that I would sleep through the whole of the next day.  He locked me in my bedroom, where I remained patiently until night.