“You will swear,- the regulation requires it,”- added the governor, “never to reveal anything that you have seen or heard in the Bastille.”
The prisoner perceived a crucifix; he stretched out his hand, and swore with his lips. “And now, Monsieur, that you are free, whither do you intend going?”
The prisoner turned his head, as if looking behind him for some protection which he had expected. Then was it that Aramis came out of the shadow. “I am here,” he said, “to render the gentleman whatever service he may please to ask.”
The prisoner slightly reddened, and without hesitation passed his arm through that of Aramis. “God have you in his holy keeping!” he said, in a voice the firmness of which made the governor tremble as much as the form of the blessing astonished him.
Aramis, on shaking hands with Baisemeaux, said to him: “Does my order trouble you? Do you fear their finding it here, should they come to search?”
“I desire to keep it, Monseigneur,” said Baisemeaux. “If they found it here, it would be a certain indication of my ruin, and in that case you would be a powerful and a last auxiliary for me.”
“Being your accomplice, you mean?” answered Aramis, shrugging his shoulders. “Adieu, Baisemeaux!” said he.
The horses were in waiting, making the carriage shake with their impatience. Baisemeaux accompanied the bishop to the bottom of the steps. Aramis caused his companion to enter before him, then followed, and without giving the driver any further order, “Go on!” said he.
The carriage rattled over the pavement of the courtyard. An officer with a torch went before the horses, and gave orders at every post to let them pass. During the time taken in opening all the barriers, Aramis barely breathed, and you might have heard his heart beat against his ribs. The prisoner, buried in a corner of the carriage, made no more sign of life than his companion. At length a jolt more severe than the others announced to them that they had cleared the last watercourse. Behind the carriage closed the last gate,- that in the Rue St. Antoine. No more walls either on the right or left; heaven everywhere, liberty everywhere, life everywhere! The horses, kept in check by a vigorous hand, went quietly as far as the middle of the faubourg. There they began to trot. Little by little, whether they warmed over it or whether they were urged, they gained in swiftness; and once past Bercy, the carriage seemed to fly. These horses ran thus as far as Villeneuve-Saint-Georges, where relays were waiting. Then four instead of two whirled the carriage away in the direction of Melun, and pulled up for a moment in the middle of the forest of Senart. No doubt the order had been given the postilion beforehand, for Aramis had no occasion even to make a sign.
“What is the matter?” asked the prisoner, as if waking from a long dream.
“The matter is, Monseigneur,” said Aramis, “that before going further, it is necessary that your royal Highness and I should converse.”
“I will wait an opportunity, Monsieur,” answered the young Prince.
“We could not have a better, Monseigneur; we are in the middle of a forest, and no one can hear us.”
“The postilion?”
“The postilion of this relay is deaf and dumb, Monseigneur.”
“I am at your service, M. d’Herblay.”
“Is it your pleasure to remain in the carriage?”
“Yes; we are comfortably seated, and I like this carriage; it has restored me to liberty.”
“Wait, Monseigneur; there is yet a precaution to be taken.”
“What?”
“We are here on the highway; cavaliers or carriages travelling like ourselves might pass, and seeing us stopping deem us in some difficulty. Let us avoid offers of assistance, which would embarrass us.”
“Give the postilion orders to conceal the carriage in one of the side avenues.”
“‘Tis exactly what I wished to do, Monseigneur.”
Aramis made a sign to the deaf and dumb driver of the carriage, whom he touched on the arm. The latter dismounted, took the leaders by the bridle, and led them over the velvet sward and the mossy grass of a winding alley, at the bottom of which, on this moonless night, the deep shades formed a curtain blacker than ink. This done, the man lay down on a slope near his horses, which on either side kept nibbling the young oak shoots.