“I 'll go with him,” said he, pointing towards me. “As his companion, I can reach the Bois de Boulogne; in any case, as his prisoner. Once there, you may trust me for the rest.” De Beauvais looked at me for a reply. I hesitated what to say, and at last said,-- “For your sake, Henri de Beauvais, and yours only, have I ventured on a step which may, in all likelihood, be my ruin. I neither know, nor wish to know, your plans; nor will I associate myself with any one, be he who he may, in your enterprise.” “Jacques Tisserand, the tanner,” continued the large man, as if not heeding nor caring for my interruption, “will warn Armand de Polignac of what has happened; and Charles de la Riviere had better remain near Deauville for the English cutter,--she 'll lie off the coast to-morrow or next day. Away! lose not a moment.” “And my dear friend here,” said De Beauvais, turning to me, “who has risked his very life to rescue me, shall I leave him thus?” “Can you save him by remaining?” said the other, as he coolly examined the priming of his pistols. “We shall all escape, if you be but quick.” A look from De Beauvais drew me towards him, when he threw his arms around my neck, and in a low, broken voice, muttered, “When I tell you that all I lived for exists to me no longer,--the love I sought refused me, my dearest ambition thwarted,--you will not think that a selfish desire for life prompts me now; but a solemn oath to obey the slightest command of that man,--sworn before my sovereign,--binds me, and I must not break it.” “Away, away! I hear voices at the gate below,” cried the other. “Adieu! adieu forever,” said De Beauvais, as he kissed my cheek, and sprang through a small doorway in the wainscot which closed after him as he went. “Now for our movements,” said the large man, unhooking a cloak that hung against the wall. “You must tie my hands with this cord in such a way that, although seemingly secure, I can free myself at a moment; place me on a horse, a fast one too, beside you; and order your troopers to ride in front and rear of us. When we reach the Bois de Boulogne, leave the Avenue des Chasseurs and turn towards St. Cloud. _Tonnerre de del_, they're firing yonder!” An irregular discharge of small arms, followed by a wild cheer, rang out above the sound of the storm. “Again! did you hear that? there are the carbines of cavalry; I know their ring. Accursed dogs, that would not do my bidding!” cried he, stamping with passion on the ground, while, throwing off his blouse, he stuck his pistols in a belt around his waist, and prepared for mortal combat. Meanwhile pistol-shots, mingled with savage shouts and wild hurrahs, were heard approaching nearer and nearer; and at length a loud knocking at the front door, with a cry of “They 're here! they 're here!”