The pitiless meaning of his words was clear as daylight. She gave a little gasp and strove to speak, but speech would not come to her, and then I found voice, and saved her from humbling herself in vain at the feet of the priest. “Ah, madame! Ask him nothing--beg not from him!” Simple as the words were, they steadied her, and gave her the strength she needed. She lapsed into a proud, cold silence, and reined back, while Achon bent toward me. “You, too, are of those whom the Office needs but before it touches you, monsieur”--he paused and his hand passed over his cheek ere he continued: “I will deal with you, and after that you will bless the rack and the estrapade when they come.” I laughed back at him in reckless scorn, as he turned away; and then we divided into two parties--I being placed with the one in which Condé was, and that headed straight for the house in the Rue Parisis. We were closely guarded. The troopers hemmed us in, so that we could barely see anything, except the men around us; but, nevertheless, in the glances I shot to the right and to the left, I was aware that there was a strange commotion in the streets. As we rode on there were voices raised in angry murmurs, and all around us there was a humming as of bees. Richelieu saw this, and doubled his precautions, riding close to Condé’s side himself, and Achon’s face became graver as he went onward. Near the Martroi, which I passed with shuddering horror, we came across a party of the Queen’s guards, with Lorgnac at their head; and by his side--I could scarce believe my eyes--was Ponthieu. They were coming toward us; but whether by accident or design, I cannot tell. They filled the road, scarce leaving us room to pass. Seeing this, Richelieu called out in a loud voice: “Way! Way for the prisoners of the King!” Lorgnac gave a sharp order to his men, calling them aside; but the crowd heard The Monk’s words and began to murmur, while Ponthieu, reckless as ever, raised a shout of “Bourbon, Notre Dame!” In a moment the mob caught up the cry, and it passed from mouth to mouth. At the time Achon was quite close to Ponthieu, and he turned on the Gascon fiercely. “You shall smart for this. I know you,” and a gibing answer came back to him: “I have not the like honor, monsieur, yet I have given a livre for masses for the souls of your dead guards----” and what more he would have said it is impossible to say; for here Lorgnac cut him short, seizing his reins and forcing him back, as he waved us on: “Pass, gentlemen! We give way to the King’s prisoners.” And as we went on, the guardsman and Richelieu exchanged glances that crossed each other like two sword-blades.