art, Vigo? Once at St. Denis, I am hostage for his safety.
The king can tell Mayenne that if Mar is tortured he will torture me!
Mayenne may not tender me greatly, but he will not relish his cousin's
breaking on the wheel."

"Mayenne won't torture M. Etienne," Vigo said, patting her hand in both
of his, forgetting she was a great lady, he an equery. "Fear not! you
will save him, mademoiselle."

"Let us go!" she cried feverishly. "Let us go!"

Gilles was in the court waiting, stripped of his livery, dressed
peaceably as a porter, but with a mallet in his hand that I should not
like to receive on my crown. I thought we were ready, but Vigo bade us
wait. I stood on the house-steps with mademoiselle, while he took aside
Squinting Charlot for a low-voiced, emphatic interview.

"Must we wait?" mademoiselle urged me, quivering like the arrow on the
bow-string. "They may discover I am gone. Need we wait?"

"Aye," I answered; "if Vigo bids us. He knows."

We waited then. Vigo disappeared presently. Mademoiselle and I stood
patient, with, oh! what impatience in our hearts, wondering how he could
so hinder us. Not till he came back did it dawn on me for what we had
stayed. He was dressed as an under-groom, not a tag of St. Quentin
colours on him.

"I beg a thousand pardons, mademoiselle. I had to give my lieutenant his
orders. Now, if you will give the word, we go."

"Do you go, M. Vigo?" She breathed deep. It was easy to see she looked
upon him as a regiment.

"Of course," Vigo answered, as if there could be no other way.

I said in pure devilry, to try to ruffle him:

"Vigo, you said you were here to guard Monsieur's interests-his house,
his goods, his moneys. Do you desert your trust?"

Mademoiselle turned quickly to him:

"Vigo, you must not let me take you from your rightful post. Felix and
your man here will care for me--"

"The boy talks silliness, mademoiselle," Vigo returned tranquilly.
"Mademoiselle is worth a dozen hotels. I go with her."

He walked beside her across the court, I following with Gilles, laughing
to myself. Only yesterday had Vigo declared that never would he give aid
and comfort to Mlle. de Montluc. It was no marvel she had conquered M.
Etienne, for he must needs have been in love with some one, but in
bringing Vigo to her feet she had won a triumph indeed.

We had to go out by the great gate, because the key of the postern was
in the Bastille. But as if by magic every guardsman and ha