The lieutenant looked at me and then at the figure before him as I continued in the same low tone: “Monseigneur is touched by your kindness in coming. The cough has exhausted him, but as soon as he recovers he will speak to you.” “I had better have René sent for,” he began. “You would be wise, but there is no immediate hurry, and the Prince wishes to thank you in person for coming. He will recover himself in a moment.” He was about to say something, but I saw that Condé had got out of the room, and, staying Comminges with a gesture of my hand, I pointed to the still figure on the bed. “He sleeps, I think. Sit here beside him, monsieur,” and I indicated a large easy-chair by the bed. “The slumber is fitful, and he will awake in five minutes.” Comminges hesitated for a moment, and then accepted my invitation. We waited in silence for a little, listening to the heavy breathing of the sick man. Finally I spoke again in low, subdued tones. “Marcilly and I are going now. May we send René in to you?” “It will save time,” he answered, and bending over the sleeping figure, I cast a look at Jean. Then I gave Comminges my hand in adieu, and, putting my finger to my lips to enjoin silence, stepped out on tiptoe from the room. As the door closed behind me I saw Condé and Vaux together, and the latter’s face was all smiles. I took the key of the _cachot_ from my pocket and handed it to the page. “You can give this to Comminges in an hour’s time, with the compliments of Monseigneur,” I said, “and you might add that Monsieur de Bresy is, perhaps, in need of some fresh air.” “How on earth did you get him there?” began the Prince; but I interrupted him. “I will tell you, your Highness, as we ride--let us not delay now.” Vaux would have dropped on his knee to say farewell, but Condé restrained him, taking his hand in a warm clasp. “_Au revoir!_” he said, stepping toward the door, and as I followed him I called out somewhat loudly, “Make our compliments to the Prince, Vaux, when he awakens.” The next moment we were in the corridor, and, walking together arm in arm, discussing the Prince’s illness, we passed slowly out, receiving the salutes of the sentinels. In the misty courtyard we ran no risk of discovery, but at the gate itself there was some slight danger. The sergeant of the guard was there, so we called him up to us, and I placed a brace of gold crowns in his hand. “From Monseigneur the Prince,” I said, “for you and the guard to drink the King’s health.” “And the Prince’s, too,” was the answer, whereat we laughed, and, wishing him good luck, passed him. He had seen Marcilly and myself on our entrance. Our going out was in the natural course of things, and the fog and the chink of gold disarmed suspicion. Outside we found the horses, and, mounting them, rode slowly off, followed by the Swiss. As we entered the square of Ste. Croix I reined in, and, calling the Swiss up to me, said to them: