Du Mornay, who had been sitting nursing his knee in silence, pursed up his lips, though it was easy to see that he was well content with the king’s approbation. He now intervened. ‘With your permission, sire,’ he said, ‘I will let this gentleman know the details.’ ‘Do, my friend,’ the king answered. ‘And be short, for if we are here much longer I shall be missed, and in a twinkling the Court will have found me a new mistress.’ He spoke in jest and with a laugh, but I saw Du Mornay start at the words, as though they were little to his liking; and I learned afterwards that the Court was really much exercised at this time with the question who would be the next favourite, the king’s passion for the Countess de la Guiche being evidently on the wane, and that which he presently evinced for Madame de Guercheville being as yet a matter of conjecture. Du Mornay took no overt notice of the king’s words, however, but proceeded to give me my directions. ‘Chize, which you know by name,’ he said, ‘is six leagues from here. Mademoiselle de la Vire is confined in the north-west room, on the first-floor, overlooking the park. More I cannot tell you, except that her woman’s name is Fanchette, and that she is to be trusted. The house is well guarded, and you will need four or five men, There are plenty of cut-throats to be hired, only see, M. de Marsac, that they are such as you can manage, and that Mademoiselle takes no hurt among them. Have horses in waiting, and the moment; you have released the lady ride north with her as fast as her strength will permit. Indeed, you must not spare her, if Turenne be on your heels. You should be across the Loire in sixty hours after leaving Chize.’ ‘Across the Loire?’ I exclaimed in astonishment. ‘Yes, sir, across the Loire,’ he replied, with some sternness. ‘Your task, be good enough to understand, is to convoy Mademoiselle de la Vire with all speed to Blois. There, attracting as little notice as may be, you will inquire for the Baron de Rosny at the Bleeding Heart, in the Rue de St. Denys. He will take charge of the lady, or direct you how to dispose of her, and your task will then be accomplished. You follow me?’ ‘Perfectly,’ I answered, speaking in my turn with some dryness. ‘But Mademoiselle I understand is young. What if she will not accompany me, a stranger, entering her room at night, and by the window?’ ‘That has been thought of’ was the answer. He turned to the King of Navarre, who, after a moment’s search, produced a small object from his pouch. This he gave to his companion, and the latter transferred it to me. I took it with curiosity. It was the half of a gold carolus, the broken edge of the coin being rough and jagged. ‘Show that to Mademoiselle, my friend,’ Du Mornay continued, ‘and she will accompany you. She has the other half.’