“We should have thought of that before, and there is still time to draw back.” There was a bitterness in my tone I could not conceal, and a faint flush reddened his cheeks. “You are right to spur me,” he said, as he drained his cup and rose to his feet, “and here comes our messenger.” The Switzer came in with his heavy stride, and, saluting, stood dumbly before us. “You have given the letter?” I asked. “Excellency.” “And the answer--any?” The man drew from his pocket a tablet, and handed it to me. I passed it on to Jean, who attempted to read it, but in vain. “_Diable!_ He may have written this with the point of his dagger. Can you make it out?” We did, with some difficulty, and the words of the note, written in a huge, sprawling hand, ran as follows: Welcome. Sancerre bids me say he expects you and de Vibrac to join us at supper at seven. Come. CIPIERRE. “The door is opening,” I said, with a forced gayety; “we must go.” “And it wants but a half-hour,” answered Jean, as he pointed to the clock. CHAPTER XII “GENTLEMEN! I AM WITH YOU” AS the last trembling notes of the vesper bells died away, the gates of Cipierre’s house opened, and Marcilly and myself, accompanied by one of the Swiss, rode out into the square. We had judged it wise to take a man in Cipierre’s colors with us, as, in case of any accident, the fact of our being accompanied by one of the guards of the governor of Orleans might prove of advantage. Marcilly had resumed his mask. This now would not attract the attention it had done in full day, for it was a common enough custom to wear such a thing after sunset, as a protection against the inclemency of the night air. “Are Cipierre and Sancerre to be let into our confidence?” I said in Spanish, to avoid any chance of the Swiss understanding our converse. “I have been thinking of that a good deal,” Marcilly replied, “and it will all depend upon how far they are willing to go. Sancerre is ready enough to move, I believe--Maligny was strong in insisting on that. As for Cipierre, he may think himself bound by his office, as Captain of Orleans, not to do anything.” “In that case we are leaning on a very doubtful support if we trust to Cipierre to get us access to the palace to-night.” “Not so. He will do that much. He hates the Guise, and, rough soldier as he is, he loves me well. There may be a little difficulty, and I may have to use some of the diplomacy I learned in the Spanish Embassy; but we will get our interview with Catherine. Once arouse their enthusiasm, and they will be with us for good and all. Courage! We have little to fear on that score.”