Part 92 (1/2)
”I should think so. Look at my dress; am I in the habit of wearing cinnamon-colored clothes?”
”And where are you lodging?”
”Ah! I hope you will appreciate my devotion; in a tumble-down old house, near the ramparts. But you, my prince, how did you get out of the Louvre? How was it that I found you on the road, with M. d'Aubigne for a companion?”
”Because I have friends.”
”You! friends!”
”Yes, friends that you do not know.”
”Well, and who are they?”
”The King of Navarre and D'Aubigne, whom you saw.”
”The King of Navarre! Ah! true, did you not conspire together?”
”I never conspired, M. de Bussy.”
”No; ask poor La Mole and Coconnas.”
”La Mole,” said the prince, gloomily, ”died for another crime than the one alleged against him.”
”Well, never mind him. How the devil did you get out of the Louvre?”
”Through the window.”
”Which window?”
”That of my bedroom.”
”Then you knew of the rope-ladder?”
”What rope-ladder?”
”In the cupboard.”
”Ah! it seems you knew it,” cried the prince, turning pale.
”Oh! your highness knows I have sometimes had the happiness of entering that room.”
”In the time of my sister Margot. Then you came in by the window?”
”As you came out. All that astonishes me is, that you knew of the ladder.”
”It was not I who found it.”
”Who then?”