Then I settled the score with mine host, and, mounting our horses, we rode back the way we came. It was at the Magasins that we wished each other good-bye, and, with a last grip of the hand and a last warning to hasten to Mourmeton, Belin turned towards the Louvre, whilst I went on towards the Tuileries, keeping the northern road, and not the more frequented street along the river face. I chose this way because, although it was a little longer, yet there was still a half-hour for my appointment, and it would not do for me to arrive too early, as by hanging about at the trysting-place I might attract attention, and, perhaps, ruin the game. As I rode on I caught myself wondering if I could play the same hand that Sully, Villeroi, and de Belin were throwing to. I knew they were honest men--their positions removed them from such temptations as might assail even a great noble, and that they were loyally trying to serve their country and their King. If such service, however good its object, meant, as it clearly did, that one must be up to the elbows in intrigue, then I thanked God that I belonged to no party, and inwardly resolved that, whether I won or lost my hazard, the court would see me no more; and as for the King! _Pardieu!_ It is not good to know a hero too well. There was a strong moon, and the night was as clear as crystal. One side of the street was in shadow, illumined here and there by the dim light of a few lanterns set high up in niches in the old and moss-grown walls of the buildings. The houses here were old even for this part of Paris, and, with their sloping roofs and many gables, rose in irregular outlines on either side--outlines, however, so softened by the moonlight, in which they seemed to quiver, that it was as if some fantastic creation of fairyland had been set down here--a phantom city that would melt into nothingness with the warm rays of the morning sun. Away in the distance it still seemed as if I could hear the hum of the city behind me, but here all was quiet and still and the iron-shod hoofs of Couronne rang out with a strange clearness into the night. Occasionally I met a passer on the road, but he or she, whoever they were, took care to give me a wide berth, and once a woman who had opened her door to look out, for some reason or other, hurried in and shut it with a little cry of alarm as I passed.