“_Faire comme on le juge à propos_,” murmured my companion; and, seeing my trunk (pregnant with damning evidence) well secured in front, he handed me in, followed himself, pulled down the blinds, and gave the word. In an instant we were rolling over the stones. It was a very roundabout way, it seemed to me, that we took to the palace; yet for long--so potent was my trust in myself as an emissary of vengeance, and so engaging the chatter of my comrade--I suspected no treachery. But at length, losing conscious sense, through the thunder of the wheels, of a roar and racket which had once accompanied it, I started as it were awake, and, in an immediate panic, peeped from behind the blind nearest me. And then I saw that we had already left the town, and were tearing along country roads. I half rose, with a cry: “The palace! This is not the way to it!” My companion seized my wrist in a grip of steel, forcing me to reseat myself. “The very nearest, I can assure you, madam.” “You are taking me to prison?” “My faith! a prison that some would like,” he said, showing his teeth. I struggled with him. “Let me out! I will raise the country else!” He released me at once. “As madam wills. Madam will claim protection of her friends the Jacobins? For me, I consult only her safety.” “What!” I panted at him, sinking back. “Tell me who are you?” “Luigi de’ Medici, at madam’s service,” he said, with a bow; “a name, at least, that should be a guarantee of some worth.” “No doubt, sir; but, as a stranger, at your mercy”-- “I have the honour to be, madam, the chief of the police.” The word awoke new frenzy in me. “My God! I am betrayed. For pity’s sake, sir, tell me where we go.” “I answered, madam, to the palace. I am a man of my word.” “What palace?” “Ah! At length madam talks reason. To the Palace of Caserta, ten leagues away.” I stared at him aghast. “To be immured there?” “Truly,” he said, “to be immured in a paradise, amongst fountains and flowers! It is not like the inside of a wall.” “You are pleased to mock me, sir. But why am I brought so far?” “Madam shall ask of her mirror,” he said, with a charming grin. “Shall I so abuse my office as to admit that His Majesty is susceptible; and that Madame the English Ambassadress--who, nevertheless, is of a perfect honour--is jealous for her friend the queen, and, perhaps, for her own pre-eminence in beauty? Certainly not. It is quite enough to say that Madame Lavasse, being in some danger of assassination in Naples, is removed to a distance for her own security; to a place, in short, whence she can direct the lightning, without exciting suspicion of collusion with Jupiter.” He bent and looked into my face. “I vow, madam,” he said, “that the last frost of discretion must melt in the fire of such beauty. Take my word for it, that the Queen of Olympus never of her will would have admitted Venus to be of her court.”