dispersed.

"What mischief is the young madcap bent on now?" I asked, wonderingly.

"Armand has a brilliant idea," Raoul replied, laughing, "be patient and
you will see."

Now that the excitement had cooled, I looked round for the Englishman,
but he had vanished, for which, when D'Arcy's hare-brained scheme
became plain, I was not altogether sorry.

CHAPTER XIII.

I again Encounter Maubranne.

The Queen's Guards had disappeared; the coachman was mounting to his
seat when Armand and his friends returned, flourishing lighted torches,
and singing a ridiculous song about the Abbe de Retz.

"A torchlight procession in honour of the bravery of the ladies!"
exclaimed D'Arcy with a merry laugh. "Form your ranks, gentlemen; we
will teach the impudent little Abbe to keep his place!"

Holding torches in their left hands and naked swords in their right,
the youthful gallants fell in; some in front, others to the rear of the
carriage, while Raoul and I, unable to oppose this ludicrous whim,
walked on either side. Marie, who did not favour D'Arcy's pleasantry,
sat so far back that her face could not be observed, but her aunt
entered into the fun, and laughed merrily when the torchbearers,
catching some luckless wight, forced him to bow humbly before the
carriage and to cry, "_Vivent les Dames!_"

The glare of the torches, the trampling of feet, the songs and laughter
of the escort, brought the people out in crowds, which compelled us to
proceed at a slow pace. Here and there we heard a growl of "Down with
Conde!" but for the most part the worthy citizens enjoyed the spectacle
and cheered heartily.

In the Rue Michel we were brought to a halt, and it appeared as if a
second and more serious blood-letting would occur. The narrow street
was already crowded, and a carriage, preceded by half-a-dozen lackeys
bearing torches, came towards us. Casting a furtive glance at Raoul, I
discovered him looking anxiously at me; it was obvious to us both that
one party must turn back, but, unfortunately for any peaceful
intentions we might have had, young D'Arcy who led the van, showed no
sign of yielding.

"Make room there!" he shouted imperiously, as if he were Conde himself,
and the people, cowed by our display of strength, parted to right and
left, leaving a clear passage.

This gave us a clearer view of the other carriage, and I noticed with
dismay that it must belong to some important personage. Behind rode a
number o