His face was haggard and his dress much disordered. It was evident that he had not paused for either rest or food. “She is at St. Césaire, I trust,” the cobbler replied calmly; “she and Babet got away from Père Ambroise’s house last night and started this morning in disguise for St. Césaire.” He made no mention of his share in the deliverance, and François jumped to another conclusion. “Faithful Babet!” he exclaimed joyfully; “doubtless she planned it all. I will follow them at once.” “You must meet them at the appointed spot, not elsewhere,” said the cobbler. “I was to meet them between the bridge and the cataract, at the spot where the old mulberry stands. Do you recall it?” “Perfectly,” replied d’Aguesseau, “but why there?” “Because they are to hide at St. Césaire until afternoon; then, if there is no pursuit to St. Cyr, they can start without being observed. If the château is too closely guarded, they will wait until night,” he added; “but it will not be, for no one will think of their return to the close vicinity of danger; it is Nîmes that will be searched for them.” “But why can I not go straight to them now?” François demanded impatiently. The cobbler sighed. “Monsieur,” he said patiently, “every house, every cottage is watched, and if you are recognized--” He broke off with an expressive gesture. “I see,” d’Aguesseau replied; “you are a wise man, Petit Bossu. Tell me about Madame de St. Cyr.” “She died yesterday in the jail here,” the hunchback answered; “the shock of the arrest and mademoiselle’s danger ended her life.” D’Aguesseau clenched his hand. “_Mon Dieu!_” he exclaimed, “how long wilt Thou afflict us?--how long?” “It was best so,” the cobbler remarked quietly. “If she had lived, Mademoiselle Rosaline would have sacrificed herself to save her. She believed that you and her grandmother were both captives; M. de Baudri told her so, and promised to save your lives--to release you both only on the condition that she should marry him.” “The accursed villain!” broke out François, laying his hand on his sword: “may I be spared to chastise him!” He walked to and fro in the little room in suppressed fury; all the fierce impulses of a bold and daring nature were aroused. “_Dieu!_” he exclaimed, in a low tone, “I cannot go to England for Cavalier; I must stay and fight this monster!” “Nay,” remarked le Bossu, gravely, “you must save Mademoiselle de St. Cyr.” François came to himself. “I ought not to need you to remind me,” he said. “I will go at once to the appointed place and wait; it is not long now, but, in the meantime, is she safe?” “We can only trust in Providence,” replied the cobbler, “since to approach her would increase her risks. But--pardon me, monsieur--if you stay much longer in Nîmes, you will be arrested.”