"It will have been brought on by our enemies themselves! They must he stricken down with terror. They invoke frightful vengeance upon Paris!" replied Marcel. "Yes, Maillart, keeping the Regent informed upon our intestine dissensions, upon the discouragement inspired among the masses by the agents of the court, upon the hatred that they have incited against us, beseeches the prince to march upon Paris, and assures him that the people are tired of suffering. He assures him that a movement in his favor will break out within our walls so soon as he approaches. He informs the prince that he and his partisans will be on guard to-night and to-morrow at the gate of St. Antoine, and that they will open the gates to him. Finally, he expresses the hope of being able to deliver me to the Regent, me whom he calls 'the soul of the revolution.'" "There can be no longer any doubt!" exclaimed Jocelyn horrified. "So that when Maillart's wife came here this evening to offer means for your escape to Dame Marguerite she only was laying a trap for you." "Aye," broke in Marcel with a look of contempt, "she was laying a trap for me. I was to trust the loyalty of my oldest friend ... I was to go alone to his house ... and there he was to take me prisoner and deliver me to the Regent at his entry into Paris!" "Treason and cowardice!" cried the student indignantly. "What a female monster! Oh, I judged her rightly from her hypocritical lamentations at the funeral of Perrin Macé." "The envy and pride that devour her have lost Maillart," rejoined the provost. "The vanity of that insensate woman has driven her husband to crime and to deep baseness. That man without character and without convictions reminds the seneschal in his letter that the Regent promised him a patent of nobility in consideration of the services he is rendering the court party!... That is the Maillart that was incessantly reproaching me for not exterminating the members of the court party who remained in Paris!... He could not find words enough to throw at the nobility!" "Oh, Master Marcel," cried Jocelyn, "and your blood was to be the price for the ennobling of that infamous wretch!" "This act of betrayal wounds me doubly ... I know mankind. Nevertheless, I resisted up to this moment the belief that Maillart could be guilty of such felony.... He, the friend of my infancy.... But now, to work. There is now no longer any doubt, nor can there now be any question what step to take.... The reaction of the court party will be merciless.... Our only chance of escape lies in the support of the King of Navarre ... and in the vigorous measures that we must now take against these implacable enemies." "Master Marcel," Jocelyn whispered to the provost, "if Charles the Wicked does not put in his appearance at the rendezvous of this evening, what will you do then?"