travel
underground, or in a car drawn by griffins?"

"With your permission, chevalier, we will simply go in a carriage; and
though you appear to doubt it, I am a woman, and rather afraid of the
dark."

"Permit me, then, to call my carriage," said the chevalier.

"Not at all; I have my own."

"Call it then."

"With your permission, chevalier, we will not be more proud than Mahomet
with the mountain; and as my carriage cannot come to us, we will go to
it."

At these words the bat drew the chevalier into the Rue St. Honore. A
carriage without armorial bearings, with two dark-colored horses, waited
at the corner of the street. The coachman was on his seat, enveloped in
a great cape which hid the lower part of his face, while a
three-cornered hat covered his forehead and eyes. A footman held the
door open with one hand, and with the other held his handkerchief so as
to conceal his face.

"Get in," said the mask.

D'Harmental hesitated a moment. The anxiety of the servants to preserve
their incognito, the carriage without blazon, the obscure place where it
was drawn up, and the advanced hour of the night, all inspired the
chevalier with a sentiment of mistrust; but reflecting that he gave his
arm to a woman, and had a sword by his side, he got in boldly. The mask
sat down by him, and the footman closed the door.

"Well, are we not going to start?" said the chevalier, seeing that the
carriage remained motionless.

"There remains a little precaution to be taken," said the mask, drawing
a silk handkerchief from her pocket.

"Ah! yes, true," said D'Harmental; "I had forgotten. I give myself up to
you with confidence."

And he advanced his head. The unknown bandaged his eyes; then said--

"Chevalier, you give me your word of honor not to remove this bandage
till I give you permission?"

"I do."

"It is well."

Then, raising the glass in front, she said to the coachman--

"You know where, Monsieur le Comte."

And the carriage started at a gallop.

CHAPTER V.

THE ARSENAL.

They both maintained a profound silence during the route. This
adventure, which at first had presented itself under the appearance of
an amorous intrigue, had soon assumed a graver aspect, and appeared to
turn toward political machinations. If this new aspect did not frighten
the chevalier, at least it gave him matter for reflection. There is a
moment in the affairs of every man which decides upon his future. This
moment, ho