Canolles stopped; the viscount was so near him that he could hear his heart beat, and could feel his warm breath coming in gasps; at the same time a delicious, intoxicating perfume, a blending of all the perfumes which emanate from youth and beauty, a perfume ten thousand times sweeter than that of the sweetest flowers, seemed to envelop him and make it impossible for him to obey the viscount, even had he desired to do so. However, he stood for an instant where he was, his hands stretched out toward those other hands, which were ready to repulse him, and with the feeling that he had but to take one step more to touch that charming body, whose suppleness and grace he had so much admired during the last two days. "Mercy! mercy!" murmured the viscount; "mercy!" His voice died away upon his lips and Canolles felt his body glide by the curtains of the window and fall at his feet. His breast dilated; there was a something in the imploring voice that told him that his adversary was half vanquished. He stepped forward, put out his hands and met the young man's clasped in supplication; he had not the strength to cry out, but heaved a pitiful sigh. Suddenly the galloping of a horse was heard beneath the window; there was a hurried knocking at the door, followed by a great outcry. "M. le Baron de Canolles!" a voice shouted. "Ah! God, I thank thee! I am saved!" murmured the viscount. "The devil take the beast!" exclaimed Canolles; "couldn't he have waited until to-morrow morning?" "M. le Baron de Canolles!" cried the voice. "M. le Baron de Canolles! I must speak with him on the instant." "Well, what's the matter?" said the baron, stepping toward the window. "Monsieur! Monsieur!" called Castorin at the door; "they are asking for you,--you are wanted." "But who is it, varlet?" "A courier." "From whom?" "M. le Duc d'Épernon." "What does he want with me?" "The king's service." At that magic phrase, which it was impossible not to heed, Canolles, still grumbling, opened the door and went downstairs. Pompée's snoring could be distinctly heard. The courier had entered the inn, and was waiting below: Canolles joined him, and turned pale as he read Nanon's letter; for, as the reader will have guessed, the courier was Cauvignac himself, who, having started nearly ten hours after Canolles, was unable to overtake him before the second night, ride as hard as he might. Cauvignac's answers to his questions left Canolles in no doubt as to the necessity of losing no time. He read the letter a second time, and the phrase, _Your loving sister, Nanon_, told him what had happened; that is to say, that Mademoiselle had cleared her skirts by passing him off as her brother. Canolles had frequently heard Nanon herself speak in most unflattering terms of this brother whose place he had taken. This fact added not a little to the ill grace with which he prepared to obey the duke's behest.