"Monseigneur will be precious angry with us both," answered the other. "How I missed you, I cannot imagine; I only went to call upon _la petite Jeanette_, and did not stay five minutes."
"And I just stepped into the _Sanglier Gourmand_," rejoined our Norman, "which is opposite, you know. There I thought I could see all that went on. But that _maraud_, Jacques Chatpilleur, was always at his door about something; so finding that I could not get my second bottle of wine, I went down to the _cave_ for it myself; and she must have passed while I was below."
"How did you find out, then, that she had got into the Bastille?" demanded the other.
The Norman's reply was delivered in so low a tone that Pauline could only distinguish the words--"Heard a scream--saw her running past like mad--threw the cloak over her, and brought her here."
"Perhaps she was not in, after all," rejoined the other; "but at all events, we must tell Monseigneur so. You swear you caught her just as she was going in, and I'll vow that I was there and saw you."
A new consultation seemed to take place; but the speakers proceeded so rapidly, that Pauline could not comprehend upon what it turned exactly, although she was herself evidently the subject of discussion. "Oh, she will not tell, for her own sake," said one of the voices. "She would be banished, to a certainty, if it was known that she got in; and as to the folks at the Bastille, be sure that they will hold their tongues."
Something was now said about a letter, and the voice of the Norman replied, "Monseigneur does not suppose that she had a letter. Oh, no! trust me, she had none. It was word of mouth work, be you sure. They were too cunning to send a letter which might be stopped upon her. No, no, they know something more than that."
"Well, then, the sooner we take her there, the better," rejoined the other; "the carriage is below, but you must blind her eyes, for she may know the liveries."
"Ah! your cursed livery betrayed us once before," answered the Norman. "_Holla! la haut! mon Ange_, give me a kerchief; I will tie her eyes with that, for the cloak almost smothers her, poor little soul!"
A light step was now heard coming down stairs, and a third person was added to the party without. What they said, Pauline could not make out; but though speaking in a whisper, she was still confident that she distinguished the voice of her maid Louise. "Harm!" said the Norman, after a moment, "we are going to do her no harm, _chère amie_! She will be down there in Maine, with the Countess, and as happy as a Princess. Give this gentleman the trunk-mail, and get yourself ready against I come back; for we have our journey to take too, you know, _ma petite femme_."