Fearing above all for mademoiselle, I made my way as soon as I could recover my wits to the embers of the fire, and regardless of the king’s sword, which I had a vague idea was darting about in the darkness, I searched for and found a half-burnt stick, which I blew into a blaze. With this, still keeping my back to the room, I contrived to light a taper that I had noticed standing by the hearth; and then, and then only, I turned to see what I had to confront. Mademoiselle de la Vire stood in a corner, half-fierce, half-terrified, and wholly flushed. She had her hand wrapped up in a ‘kerchief already stained with blood; and from this I gathered that the king in his frenzy had wounded her slightly. Standing before her mistress, with her hair bristling, like a wild-cat’s fur, and her arms akimbo, was Fanchette, her harsh face and square form instinct with fury and defiance. Madame de Bruhl and Simon cowered against the wall not far from them; and in a chair, into which he had apparently just thrown himself, sat the king, huddled up and collapsed, the point of his sword trailing on the ground beside him, and his nerveless hand scarce retaining force to grip the pommel. In a moment I made up my mind what to do, and going to him in silence, I laid my pistols, sword, and dagger on a stool by his side. Then I knelt. ‘The door, sire,’ I said, ‘is there. It is for your Majesty to open it when you please. Here, too, sire, are my weapons. I am your prisoner, the Provost-Marshal is outside, and you can at a word deliver me to him. Only one thing I beg, sire,’ I continued earnestly, ‘that your Majesty will treat as a delusion the idea that I meditated for a moment disrespect or violence to your person.’ He looked at me dully, his face pale, his eyes fish-like. ‘Sanctus, man!’ he muttered, ‘why did you raise your hand?’ ‘Only to implore your Majesty to pause a moment,’ I answered, watching the intelligence return slowly to his face. ‘If you will deign to listen I can explain in half a dozen words, sire. M. de Bruhl’s men are six or seven, the Provost has eight or nine; but the former are the wilder blades, and if M. de Bruhl find your Majesty in my lodging, and infer his own defeat, he will be capable of any desperate stroke. Your person would hardly be safe in his company through the streets. And there is another consideration,’ I went on, observing with joy that the king listened, and was gradually regaining his composure. ‘That is, the secrecy you desired to preserve, sire, until this matter should be well advanced. M. de Rosny laid the strictest injunctions on me in that respect, fearing an EMEUTE in Blois should your Majesty’s plans become known.’ ‘You speak fairly,’ the king answered with returning energy, though he avoided looking at the women. ‘Bruhl is likely enough to raise one. But how am I to get out, sir?’ he continued, querulously. ‘I cannot remain here. I shall be missed, man! I am not a hedge-captain, neither sought nor wanted!’