“This will be done, but Anne de Montmorenci will take the risk.” “That is his affair!” She shrugged her shoulders; yet there was a momentary flash of triumph in her eyes. She had got the news she wanted, the certainty that the Constable would move; and now, as if to end the interview, she said: “This is all, gentlemen, is it not?” “All, madame, except one thing. We have two prisoners here, who voluntarily surrender to your Majesty, and beseech your mercy toward them.” At these words both Marcilly and I started, but Sancerre gave us a warning glance, and gripped Cipierre by the arm, as if to restrain him from speech. She was looking at us now with a faint smile, whether in mockery or not, playing on the corners of her lips. “So these are the prisoners,” she said; “I know these gentlemen as----” “Faithful servants of the King, and of the House of Valois,” said Sancerre, adding, as he lowered his voice, “there is still time before all is lost.” “Before all is lost.” She repeated the words mechanically, and then, as if grasping the full significance of their meaning, she became for a space unconscious of our presence, standing before us as if she was alone with herself. For a breath it seemed as if that dark and subtle heart was to lay aside the mask that covered it. “Lost!” she murmured. “Is it for this my hands are red?” she shuddered slightly, and then recovered herself, her face strangely white, her lips pale. “No! Not yet! I hold cards too!” She laughed bitterly. “Ah, Guise? ’Tis a woman’s wit against all your strength!” Then, with an effort, she brought herself to the moment, and turned to us, once more the actress, once more incapable of pursuing an open course. “Messieurs,” she said, addressing Jean and myself, “I thank you for coming here. But you have done wrong--expect no help from me--none. M. de Guise knows of your coming--there is but one order I can give, but I will give you time ere I issue it. I give you until sunrise to-morrow to escape.” “Madame,” replied Marcilly, “we weighed the risk before we came. We have not come here like bats in the night, to flit away like bats with the dawn. Madame, trust us!” “_Mordieu!_ Madame! You have no traitors around you for once. Do not lose any chance, however small!” It was Cipierre who spoke, impatient at her fencing. “Traitors! The very tapestry in this room has eyes and ears--aye! and tongues too!” she answered. “But I believe you. For once I believe there are no traitors around me.” And I, who was about to be the blackest of traitors, though I knew it not then, felt a glow coming over me at the words. “Madame,” said Sancerre, “then act on that belief. This is no time for hesitation. Cannot you see what the Guise will do at the first hint of the Constable’s moving? The Prince must be saved. He, and he alone, can make head against Lorraine. With his death there would be an end to us. We must play every card now.”