"That I intend doing my utmost to save your life, madame. Come, before the mob begins to work mischief. Raoul has procured me a permit which will pass us through the gates." "You have grown wondrous timid of a sudden," she laughed. "I can perceive no sign of danger. There are a few people in the street, but they are quiet enough." "They are swarming from their dens in all quarters of the town, madame, and they are as likely as not to come here." "But why should they?" she inquired, and I could only reply by asking why they should not. "They cannot wish to injure us," exclaimed Marie; "we have done them no harm!" a remark which showed how little the girl understood the passions of an angry mob. For ten minutes or more I stood there begging Madame Coutance to escape, and all the while the number of people in the street steadily increased. They had done no mischief as yet, but passed their time in an aimless sort of promenade, shouting, singing, and mocking at any well-dressed passer-by. Once the whole crowd for some reason swept into the adjoining street, and for a brief period the Rue Crillon was left empty. "Your bogey has vanished, Albert," cried Madame Coutance in triumph; "I told you there was no danger." "I trust madame will prove the surer prophet, but I am still doubtful." "Here they come again!" cried Marie. "What a horrid din! What are they doing, Albert?" "Singing, but I cannot distinguish the words. They are growing more restless now. I should like to see D'Artagnan ride up with his troopers; he would soon clear the road. But I expect there is sufficient work for him in other parts." For a while we stood, half hidden by the heavy curtains, watching the antics of the crowd, and wondering what would happen next. The people moved to and fro like caged animals, walking a few steps and turning back or crossing repeatedly from one side of the road to the other. A body of soldiers would have dispersed them easily, as they had neither purpose nor leader. Presently they began to cluster more thickly at a spot some twenty yards below our house, and then I saw a big ragged fellow holding aloft a red flag, while another was pointing to it, and talking violently. I could not hear what he said, but every now and then the crowd shouted approval of his words. "The fellow is hatching trouble," I muttered to myself, and, almost unconsciously, I felt for Le Tellier's note. "They will attack the Palais Royal," said Madame Coutance. "They are angry because the prince has been driven away. I am sorry for the Queen, but they will not hurt her, if she promises to recall him." "Be still!" I exclaimed with more freedom than politeness, "and listen. Now, can you understand?"