There is a gentleman with them who wears a
mask. 'T is whispered that he is a prince of the blood who has made a vow
not to uncover his face until this war be ended, in expiation of some sin
committed in mad Paris."
I heard him in silence, and when he had done I thanked him for his
information. So! This was the story that the crafty St. Auban had spread
abroad to lull suspicion touching the real nature of their presence until
their horses should be fit to undertake the return journey to Paris, or
until he should have secured the person of M. de Canaples.
Towards eleven o'clock, as the lights in the hostelry opposite were burning
low, I descended, and made my way out into the now deserted street. The
troopers had apparently seen fit--or else been ordered--to seek their beds,
for the place had grown silent, and a servant was in the act of making fast
the door for the night. The porte-coch?re was half closed, and a man
carrying a lantern was making fast the bolt, whistling aimlessly to
himself. Through the half of the door that was yet open, I beheld a window
from which the light fell upon a distant corner of the courtyard.
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