"There, there," she said, thrusting the paper into Marie de Clairvaut's hands, "that is from the Queen! Do what you like! Act as you like! I would not go out for the whole world, for just through the grating I have seen a Swiss officer carried by, all dropping with blood as they bore him along the streets. I will go to prayers; I will go to prayers!" The note from the Queen-mother was very brief. "You know, mademoiselle," it said, "that you have not been kept where you are by my orders. I would fain have set you free two nights ago by any means in my power, if meddling fools on the one side, and cowardly fools on the other, had not frustrated my plan. I have now taken the responsibility upon myself of ordering the gates to be opened to you. The man who brings you this is brave and to be trusted; and what I have to entreat of you is, if I have shown you any kindness, to go with all speed to the hotel of my good cousin of Guise, and beseech him to do his best to allay the tumult, so far, at least, that I myself may come to him with safety. The scenes that you will meet with may be terrible, but you have that blood in your veins which does not easily shrink from the aspect of danger." Marie de Clairvaut might be more timid than Catherine de Medici believed; but, when she thought of freedom, and of being delivered from the power of those whom she detested, to dwell once more with those she loved, she felt that scarcely any scene would be so terrible as to deter her from seeking such a result. She remarked, however, that the Queen did not once mention the name of Charles of Montsoreau, or allude to his fate. "What," she asked herself, "is he still to be kept a prisoner, while I am set at liberty? If so, liberty is scarcely worth having." She paused, and thought for a moment, and then the hope crossed her mind of setting him at liberty herself. "Surely," she said, "I could trace my way back to his apartments. I remember every turning well; and then, by bringing him through here, in the confusion and terror that now reign in the convent, I could easily give him his liberty too." The more she thought of it, the more feasible the scheme seemed to be; and catching up an ordinary veil to throw over her head, she ran down into the apartments of the Queen, which she found, as she expected, quite vacant. She had no difficulty in discovering the corridor that led towards the rector's court. At the end there was a door which was locked, but the key was in it, and she passed through. Another short passage led her to the room where she had waited for the Queen, and where she had listened to Charles of Montsoreau singing; and then with a beating and an anxious heart she hurried on rapidly to the chamber where she had seen him last.