'This arrest is an infamous violation of the privileges of the Scottish Guard,' said I, losing all temper; 'these privileges were given us by the predecessors of Louis XIII.--by kings better and braver than he--privileges won in battle, and which he cannot, dare not revoke!' 'Dare not?' 'No!' 'Peste! do they include the right of intromitting with the King's mistress?' 'King Louis will hear more of this; if he wishes, a town taken in Lorraine, or a castle stormed on the Rhine.' 'Your Scottish government may, if they choose, place a French gentleman in the castle of Edinburgh, by way of reprisal,' sneered De Brissac. 'That will comfort me mightily.' 'I presume there is no lack of French fiddlers and dancing masters in Scotland?' 'There are twenty thousand Scots now under Hepburn and La Force; I would they were all to-night in Paris.' 'The Marechal de la Force is a brave fellow.' 'Ay, none is braver. He will face the devil or a cannon-ball--' 'But he cannot face his angry wife.' 'In all things he excels M. de Brissac.' 'Thank you; but for the place to which we are going, I would ask you to alight and measure swords with me.' 'Now that you speak of it, where are we going?' 'Cannot you guess?' 'No; but your musketeers must be well nigh out of breath by this time.' 'We are en route to the Bastille.' 'The Bastille!' I exclaimed, while my blood ran cold. 'Yes; 'tis occasionally fashionable to visit it at the French court.' 'I would prefer any other prison--' 'The Château d'Amboise, perhaps; but we cannot always choose our own quarters, M. Blane,' said De Brissac, as the fiacre, to the great relief of messieurs the twelve breathless musketeers, halted close by the Porte St. Antoine; and vainly I recalled the warning of the Marquis de Gordon, when first I met him at Clara's-- '_Be wary, for her chamber has occasionally led to the Bastille, or to the more dreadful oubliettes of the Louvre!_' CHAPTER XXX. THE BASTILLE. When I alighted, the musketeers closed round me. We were under the shadow of an immense dark building, the massive outline of which was broken at intervals by eight round towers. A jagged gateway frowned above the carriage; there was a clanking of iron bars; a horrible jarring of bolts upon the pavement as an iron gate was opened and shut; a swinging of chains and exchange of papers as De Brissac gave my sword to the governor with a malicious and undisguised smile of triumph; and then I found myself in the custody of the Bastille--fairly enclosed within its walls. The Bastille!