“Do you the same!” he cried.  “And quick, man, quick!  Leave your boots!  Once outside we must pass through the streets under these”—­he took up his burden again and set it on his head—­“until we reach a quiet part, and there we—­”

“Can hide!  Or swim the river!” the minister said.  He had followed his companion’s example, and now stood under a similar burden.  With breeches rent and whitened, and his upper garments in no better case, he looked a sorry figure.

Tignonville eyed him with satisfaction, and turned to the staircase.

“Come,” he cried, “there is not a moment to be lost.  At any minute they may enter our room and find it empty!  You are ready?  Then, not too softly, or it may rouse suspicion!  And mumble something at the door.”

He began himself to scold, and, muttering incoherently, stumbled down the staircase, the pallet on his head rustling against the wall on each side.  Arrived at the door, he fumbled clumsily with the latch, and, when the door gave way, plumped out with an oath—­as if the awkward burden he bore were the only thing on his mind.  Badelon—­he was on duty—­stared at the apparition; but the next moment he sniffed the pallet, which was none of the freshest, and, turning up his nose, he retreated a pace.  He had no suspicion; the men did not come from the part of the house where the prisoners lay, and he stood aside to let them pass.  In a moment, staggering, and going a little unsteadily, as if they scarcely saw their way, they had passed by him, and were descending the staircase.

So far well!  Unfortunately, when they reached the foot of that flight they came on the main passage of the first-floor.  It ran right and left, and Tignonville did not know which way he must turn to reach the lower staircase.  Yet he dared not hesitate; in the passage, waiting about the doors, were four or five servants, and in the distance he caught sight of three men belonging to Tavannes’ company.  At any moment, too, an upper servant might meet them, ask what they were doing, and detect the fraud.  He turned at random, therefore—­to the left as it chanced—­and marched along bravely, until the very thing happened which he had feared.  A man came from a room plump upon them, saw them, and held up his hands in horror.

“What are you doing?” he cried in a rage and with an oath.  “Who set you on this?”

Tignonville’s tongue clave to the roof of his mouth.  La Tribe from behind muttered something about the stable.

“And time too!” the man said.  “Faugh!  But how come you this way?  Are you drunk?  Here!” He opened the door of a musty closet beside him, “Pitch them in here, do you hear?  And take them down when it is dark.  Faugh.  I wonder you did not carry the things though her ladyship’s room at once!  If my lord had been in and met you!  Now then, do as I tell you!  Are you drunk?”

With a sullen air Tignonville threw in his mattress.  La Tribe did the same.  Fortunately the passage was ill-lighted, and there were many helpers and strange servants in the inn.  The butler only thought them ill-looking fellows who knew no better.