over the barricade, and smashed the rich furniture of it in
wanton malice, we filed aside, and nimbly slipped under it one by
one. Then we hurried in single file to the end of the room, no
one taking much notice of us. All were pressing on, intent on
their prey. We gained the door as the butcher struck his first
blow on that which we had guarded--on that which we had given up.
We sprang down the stairs with bounding hearts, heard as we
reached the outer door the roar of many voices, but stayed not to
look behind--paused indeed for nothing. Fear, to speak candidly,
lent us wings. In three seconds we had leapt the prostrate
gates, and were in the street. A cripple, two or three dogs, a
knot of women looking timidly yet curiously in, a horse tethered
to the staple--we saw nothing else. No one stayed us. No one
raised a hand, and in another minute we had turned a corner, and
were out of sight of the house.

"They will take a gentleman's word another time," I said with a
quiet smile as I put up my sword.

"I would like to see her face at this moment," Croisette replied.
"You saw Madame d'O?"

I shook my head, not answering. I was not sure, and I had a
queer, sickening dread of the subject. If I had seen her, I had
seen oh! it was too horrible, too unnatural! Her own sister!
Her own brother in-law!

I hastened to change the subject. "The Pavannes," I made shift
to say, "must have had five minutes' start."