a man working in one of the numerous little gardens cleared
out by the peasants on the opposite side of the moat.

"Hey, friend!" cried the duke.

The man raised his head and the duke was about to utter a cry of
surprise. The peasant, the gardener, was Rochefort, whom he believed to
be in the Bastile.

"Well? Who's up there?" said the man.

"Be so good as to collect and throw us back our balls," said the duke.

The gardener nodded and began to fling up the balls, which were picked
up by La Ramee and the guard. One, however, fell at the duke's feet, and
seeing that it was intended for him, he put it into his pocket.

La Ramee was in ecstasies at having beaten a prince of the blood.

The duke went indoors and retired to bed, where he spent, indeed, the
greater part of every day, as they had taken his books away. La Ramee
carried off all his clothes, in order to be certain that the duke would
not stir. However, the duke contrived to hide the ball under his bolster
and as soon as the door was closed he tore off the cover of the ball
with his teeth and found underneath the following letter:

My Lord,--Your friends are watching over you and the hour of your
deliverance is at hand. Ask day after to-morrow to have a pie supplied
you by the new confectioner opposite the castle, and who is no other
than Noirmont, your former maitre d'hotel. Do not open the pie till you
are alone. I hope you will be satisfied with its contents.

"Your highness's most devoted servant,

"In the Bastile, as elsewhere,

"Comte de Rochefort."

The duke, who had latterly been allowed a fire, burned the letter, but
kept the ball, and went to bed, hiding the ball under his bolster. La
Ramee entered; he smiled kindly on the prisoner, for he was an excellent
man and had taken a great liking for the captive prince. He endeavored
to cheer him up in his solitude.

"Ah, my friend!" cried the duke, "you are so good; if I could but do
as you do, and eat pates and drink Burgundy at the house of Father
Marteau's successor."

"'Tis true, my lord," answered La Ramee, "that his pates are famous and
his wine magnificent."

"In any case," said the duke, "his cellar and kitchen might easily excel
those of Monsieur de Chavigny."

"Well, my lord," said La Ramee, falling into the trap, "what is there to
prevent your trying them? Besides, I have promised him your patronage."

"You are right," said the duke. "If I am to remain here permanently,
as M