I may say at once that in this chronicle it often befalls that I have to describe the actions and deal with the motives of others. In doing this I have given no rein to idle fancy, but have strictly followed what those who played a part in my life have told me.

To show that my authorities in this respect are beyond reproach I have but to mention the names of my friends—Blaise Ste. Marie de Lorgnac, now, as all know, the MarÉchal Duc de Lorgnac; and Nicholas d'Ayen, Sieur de Besme, of the Quercy, who acted so strange a part in his day under the name of Le Brusquet. Each of these is prepared on his faith, as knight and gentleman, to support my words, either on foot or on horseback, with sword or with lance, and in this respect I too am ready to cross a blade, or run a course; and so, God defend the Truth!

If further proof is needed I beg leave to refer to the confession of the Italian, Torquato Trotto, made at his expiation, which gives many and curious details, especially of what happened in Le Jaquemart, and which is registered in the archives of the Parliament of Paris, where all who list may see it. There is yet one other whom I could name, one who is ever at my side, and who for good or for ill has taken me as part of her life; but for the present the names I have cited are sufficient, and I shall say no more on the subject.

On returning to my apartment after leaving VendÔme and Le Brusquet I found old Camus at the door awaiting me. He entered with me, saying:

"I watched it all from the window. Hey! but it was well done!"

I pretended to take no notice of this remark, and pressed some refreshment upon him; but the old rascal refused, and sat with his knee between his hands, rocking himself backwards and forwards. He went on to make some roundabout inquiries as to who the persons were to whose assistance I had gone, but I told him plainly that I did not desire to discuss the subject.

Becoming nettled at this, he said: "Ho! ho! and so you do not trust me, Monsieur Broussel! Well, I tell you I know at any rate who it is that lies dead out there, for I have been to see, and it will not take long for me to find out the rest."

"Go and find out, then!" I said somewhat roughly, being annoyed in my turn.

At which he rose in a white heat. "That I will," he said; "and you will find that the hand of Madame Diane, soft as it is, can grip hard—hard, mind you, Monsieur Broussel!"

With this he flung out; and so we, who but an hour or two ago were in friendly converse, parted in anger, and with stormy words.

In a manner I was not sorry for this, for in my heart I always felt a warning against him, and there was something so ominous, so evil, in his face as he left that I felt assured he would strike a felon blow at the first opportunity.

The more I reflected on what had happened, and on Camus' threat in connection with Diane de Poitiers, the more I began to see a crop of dangers ahead of me. I began to think it well to retire to some other city. In this I was influenced by the fact that, if there were trouble about the dead man and I were involved in it, as after Camus' words I felt I should certainly be, it was hardly possible that I could escape being recognised.

The sentence against me, cruel and unjust as it was, stood still, and, once I was discovered, it would be put into force for certain.

Like a prudent general, I felt I must beat a retreat. The bulk of my money was in trustworthy hands in Antwerp, but in my oak chest were a hundred gold crowns of the sun—a great stand-by and help in the hour of trouble.

There was nothing for it but to go, and, summoning Pierrebon, I told him of my intention. We set to work to pack a valise at once. This being done, we waited for the small hours.

It was about four in the morning that I decided to move, and taking a last look at the place where I had lived so long in peace I went out into the street, followed by Pierrebon bearing the valise. I had to leave everything behind except the barest necessities and my money, and to trust the well-being of my goods to Fortune. The jade was unkind enough to forget me in this matter, which put me to heavy loss.

It was, of course, impossible to leave Paris at this hour, as the gates would be shut; but behind the Abbey of St. Germain de Pres was a little hostel called the Chapeau Rouge, where I knew I could find shelter until I could procure a couple of horses and be off.

At four in the morning night-hawks are abed, and even the convicts had ceased working on the Gloriette. The moon had gone, and it was dark now—the darkness that precedes the dawn.

We met not a soul as we stumbled along, and coming out at length to the VallÉe de MisÈre we passed the Gloriette, and kept to our right along the river face, until almost opposite the Church of St. Germain l'Auxerrois. Here moored to the bank were a number of boats, the boatmen sleeping within them. Groping about in the darkness—such noises as we made being fortunately drowned by the continual lap, lap of the water against the sides of the boat, and their creaking and groaning as they rubbed against each other—we at length found a small empty boat tied to a large one. Favoured by darkness, we loosened the knot, and, taking to the oars, crossed the river without being perceived by a soul.

Once on the opposite bank we made the boat fast to some piles of wood near the water's edge, and leaving a piece of silver for the boatman, which I trust he found, we took the road to the Abbey of St. Germain. Near here we found a retreat in the scaffolding of a house that was being repaired. There we stayed until it was light, and about six in the morning arrived at the inn, as though we were early travellers who had entered Paris on the opening of the Porte St. Germain. In this manner, favoured by luck, and by the exercise of caution, I bade farewell to the Rue de LavandiÈres, and gave Camus the slip, without leaving any trace behind me.

The Chapeau Rouge was an inn mostly frequented by students, and in my younger days I knew it well, though, to be sure, more than a dozen years had passed since I last entered it. It was surrounded by a large garden, enclosed by a high wall, and I could have chosen no better place for my purpose, which was to lie close during the day, and, as soon as horses were procured, to depart at dusk, about the hour of the shutting of the gates.

As it happened, on this day there was scarce a soul at the inn, all the usual customers having been drawn away to witness the execution of a Portuguese named Gomez, who had been found guilty of sorcery, witchcraft, and other crimes, and was to suffer in expiation on the Place Maubert.

This ill wind, however, blew fair for me, as it left me undisturbed; and sending Pierrebon to purchase or hire horses I awaited his return.

It was well on in the afternoon, and the sun being hot I was resting in the shade of the garden wall, when from within a summer-house all covered with roses, that stood near to me, I heard a lute string touched by a master-hand, and a man's voice, full and clear, began to sing "The Three Cavaliers." With a rush a hundred recollections of the past came back to me, and I felt myself once more a heedless boy, sitting on that very same seat where the singer was now, and singing the same song. I rose and went forward, and to my surprise saw it was Le Brusquet, lute in hand, and by his side there sat a small brown ape, a collar of gold round his neck.

I listened till the last of the song, and was about to turn away; but, the ape running out of the summer-house at the time, the jester put his head through the entrance, with a "Back! Pompon! back!" and caught sight of me.

In a moment he was by my side, and, willy-nilly, forced me into the summer-house.

"The very man I wanted," he said. "I came here to think of you. I always come here when in doubt or trouble—and here you are—dropped from the clouds." He poured out some wine for me, and when we had drank a health together he asked me:

"Eh bien, monsieur, tell me how you came here; tell me all, for I am a friend."

It was impossible not to see this, and in a few words I told him. He listened gravely the while, stroking his ape's head.

When I had done he spoke. "I too have something to tell you. There is an outcry about Madame Diane's Italian—the first time an outcry has been made about any such scum. This morning there was a scene at the petit couvert. I was there. The short of it is that the King, my gossip, sided with his mistress as against VendÔme. Words ran so high that the Duke was ordered to leave Paris, which he did at once."

I looked at the ring on my finger, and Le Brusquet saw the look.

"I fear," he said, "that little talisman has lost its power for the present; but, to go on, I had other business in the morning which I could not avoid. Towards eleven o'clock I hastened to the Rue des LavandiÈres to return your sword and to warn you. To my relief you were not there. Your hermit's paradise is gone, and an angel, in the form of one of M. Morin's guards, is at the door. Instead of a flaming sword he carries an arquebus——"

"It is quick work," I cut in; "and they have seized everything, I suppose?"

"Yes; everything. And your ostensible accuser and witness against you is one Camus, a glove-maker. He laid an information against you at sunrise. He was with Valentinois an hour later. Diane rises with the dawn, you know; and he is her glove-maker."

"So he has struck hard, and struck quickly."

"Yes; there is very little glove about his action. And more, Diane seems bent upon avenging the death of her Italian. But, monsieur, what is your next move?"

I explained my intention, and how I proposed to quit Paris; whereat he shook his head.

"It will not do," he said; "the gates are watched. So far you have beaten them, but there you will fail, and here detection is certain."

"I must risk something."

"As little as possible." And after a pause: "What do you say to the
Louvre?"

"The Louvre!—the lion's den!"

"The safest place on earth. See here, Monsieur Broussel. I owe you my life; give me a chance to make some return. Can you trust me enough to put yourself in my hands? I will not fail you. It is not Le Brusquet the King's jester, but Nicholas d'Ayen, Sieur de Besme, of the Quercy, who pledges his word."

We stared each other in the face, and my good genius came to my elbow.

"Yes," I said.

In short, it was arranged that I should meet him towards sunset at the entrance to the tennis court, east of the Louvre. There was some difficulty about Pierrebon and the horses; but in this Le Brusquet again came to my aid, and it was settled that Pierrebon should find shelter in a house in the Rue Tire Boudin, which belonged to Monsieur Blaise de Lorgnac, Seigneur of Malezieux, and lieutenant of the Queen's guard, the same being a tried and true friend of my new-found benefactor.

Pierrebon at this moment returning, I hailed him. He had been unsuccessful in his attempt to obtain horses such as we needed, but hoped to do so the next day; and shortly after Le Brusquet departed, taking Pierrebon with him, and my valise.

"Fast bind, safe find," he said as he pointed at Pierrebon; and then, calling to his ape, went off.

Towards the appointed time I found myself close to the parvis of St. Germain l'Auxerrois. For some reason or other there was a greater crowd than usual, and I was compelled to halt for a moment. Just at this moment a body of eight or ten horsemen came trotting rapidly towards the ChÂtelet. Their leader all but rode over a child, and would certainly have done so had I not made a long arm and pushed it aside. There was no doubt of it, the leading horseman was my brother Simon, the Vidame d'Orrain, and I thanked my good star that, owing to the dusk, the bustle, and the pace he was going at, he did not recognise me. Something, however, struck him, for twice he turned back to look. I did not wait for a third glance, and, mixing with the crowd, was lost to view.

At the gate of the tennis court I met Le Brusquet, and, passing through a wicket, we entered the precincts of the Louvre.