Just as we were passing through the midst of the Place, one fierce and brutal wretch had got down the unhappy Ferrand de Vavari, one of the councillors, and was coolly running a knife into his throat, notwithstanding all his cries and struggles, with the same reckless indifference with which a butcher kills a sheep. Starting up as we passed, the assassin shouted out "More Mazarines! More Mazarines! Why do you let them go?"
The people made a movement round us; and I saw that there was nothing for it but decision. Halting abruptly in the midst, I cried, with every appearance of fury and indignation, that either my voice or features would take on, "He calls me a Mazarine!--me!--a Mazarine!--when he knows us both for officers of the Prince de Condé:--me a Mazarine!" and, without farther ceremony--seeing that the incarnate fiend, who, most probably, recognised M. de Villardin, was about to retort upon me--I presented my musket, and, at the same moment, pulled the trigger. He fell directly; and the people, convinced by the boldness of the action that I was really a follower of the Princes, who were then omnipotent amongst them, made way, shouting, "Vivent les Princes! Vive Condé!"
Without giving time for those who had crowded round my fallen opponent to become interested in his cause, or to hear anything he might have to say in case he were only wounded, I hurried forward as fast as possible, directing my course away from the river, towards which M. de Villardin seemed inclined to proceed. The fact was, however, that at the window of one of the houses in that part of the Grève I saw the head of the Duc de Beaufort backed by the faces of several of his officers; and, as I did not feel at all sure that he might not point us out for massacre as we passed, I thought it best to get out of his sight by the nearest road.
When once we were fairly away from the Place and its immediate vicinity, where the fury of the people was blind and indiscriminate, the straw in our hats secured us a free passage, though the streets were everywhere thronged with rioters; but as Monsieur de Villardin might each moment be recognised by some one who had known him during his former residence in Paris, I made the best of my way to the house of an honest shoemaker, who had served the whole household of the Duke, and served them well. All the shops were by this time shut up, for fear of pillage; and long were we obliged to knock before the good man ventured to open his door and let us in: when he did so, however, he showed us every sort of kindness, and thanked heaven a thousand times for the escape of the Duke. Bringing us to a neat upper room, where we could lie concealed from any one who might enter the lower part of the house, he pointed out to us the means of escaping over the roofs should it become necessary; but of this neither Monsieur de Villardin nor myself entertained the least apprehension; and, while the good shoemaker went down to provide, as far as possible, for our comfort and security, we began to breathe more freely than we had done for some time, and to talk over the adventures of the last few hours.