With this key Lucille opened the window of the balcony softly. The descent from this would at another time have appeared to her a matter of peril, if not impossibility; nerved, however, by the stake and the emergency, it was nothing; she was upon the ground. The park door she found, as Blassemare had promised, open. She was now amidst the misty shadows of the solemn wood. She knew the path to the well by which the two chestnut-trees grew, and, with light and trembling steps, ran toward the trysting place. The moon had just begun to rise, and afforded a wan light, as she reached the appointed spot. She stood beside the well, almost frightened at the success of her adventure. A figure emerged from a thicket close by. It was that of a man in a huge red cloak, and with a great cocked hat, like that of a _gens-d'armes_. Could this possibly be De Secqville? He whistled a shrill summons as he approached, and she heard the sound of steps hurrying to the spot. She was full of fear, apprehensive of treason and danger. The gentleman in the cocked hat was now close to her. He had long black hair, descending upon his shoulders, a pair of shaggy eyebrows, and a preposterous pair of black moustaches. She asked, in a faltering voice-- "Who are you, sir?" "An officer, madame, of the police; and you are Madame Lucille Le Prun, _nee_ de Charrebourg, wife of Etienne Le Prun; and I arrest you in the King's name." "Arrest me!--why?--upon what charge?--who is my accuser?" "By my faith, madame, I know not. My duty is, simply to arrest you, in the name of his Majesty, and to convey you to Paris. It is nothing very bad, I fancy. Perhaps you have made monsieur a little jealous, or so; but you know best." He spoke in a harsh, gruff voice, and his hand rested upon her arm, so as to render escape impossible, while he addressed her. "By what authority do you arrest me?--by what order?" "By virtue of this _lettre-de-cachet_; you see, madame, signed by the minister of police." "I cannot read it; there is not light sufficient." "_Ma foi_, madame, there is little sunshine at half-past eleven o'clock at night. I can't help that. Madame will please to come with us." Two men by this time had appeared close at hand; and Madame Le Prun, who much preferred one of the King's prisons to that in which her husband was absolute, accompanied her captors with a far better grace than under other circumstances she would have done. Distant a few score steps, upon a sort of grass-grown road, which traversed the park, stood the equipage which we have already described; and in a few seconds Lucille found herself seated beside the red cloak and mighty moustache, that held her in durance, jolting and rolling at a rapid pace along the moonlit scenery of the park. "Where am I going?--to the Bastile?" asked Lucille, when a few minutes had a little recovered her from the stun and confusion of this adventure. "Hum!--why, no, madame--not the Bastile; you are going to a convent."