This was the worst part of the whole business. Philip had now to take leave of his good dame Joan, which, like a well-arranged sermon, consisted of three distinct parts; he had first to wake her, then to make her comprehend, and then to endure her lamentation. The first two were tasks of some difficulty, for Joan slept tolerably well--that is to say, you might have fired a cannon at her ear without making her hear--and when she was awake, her understanding did not become particularly pellucid for at least an hour after. This on ordinary occasions--but on the present Philip laboured hard to make her mind take in that he was arrested and going to the Bastille. But finding that her senses were still somewhat obdurate, and that she did nothing but rub her eyes, and stretch and yawn in his face, he had recourse to the same means morally, which he would have used physically to cleave an oak; namely, he kept shouting to her, "Bastille! Bastille! Bastille!" reiterating the word upon her ear, just in the same manner that he would have plied the timber with his axe. At length she comprehended it all. Her eye glanced from the inner room upon the unwonted guests who occupied the other chamber, and then to the dismayed countenance of her husband; and divining it suddenly, she threw her arms round the athletic form of the Woodman, bursting into a passion of tears, and declaring that he should not leave her. Of course, on all such occasions there must follow a very tender scene between husband and wife, and such there was in the present instance: only Joan, availing herself of one especial privilege of the fair sex, did not fail, between her bursts of tears and sobs, to rail loudly at the Cardinal, the King, and all belonging to them, talking more high treason in five minutes, than would have cost any _man_ an hour to compose; nor did she spare even the Exempts, or the two gentlemen in Isabel and silver, but poured forth her indignation upon all alike. However, as all things must come to an end, so did this; and Philip was carried away amidst the vain entreaties his wife at length condescended to use. The only difficulty which remained was, how to mount their prisoner, having all forgot to bring a horse from Meulan for that purpose; and Philip not choosing to facilitate his own removal by telling them that he had a mule in the stable. However it was at length agreed, that one of the Exempts should walk to the next town, and that Philip should mount his horse till another could be obtained. As the party turned away from the hut, the chief servant, somewhat moved by the unceasing tears of Joan, took upon him to say that he was sure that Charles the Woodman's son, who stood with his mother at the door, would be permitted to see his father in the Bastille, if they would all agree to say, that they did not know what was become of him, in case of any impertinent person inquiring for him during his absence.