While the conspirators were thus engaged, David was polishing some lines addressed to his amorette d’escalier. He heard a timorous knock at his door, and opened it, with a great throb, to behold her there, panting as one in straits, with eyes wide open and artless, like a child’s.
“Monsieur,” she breathed, “I come to you in distress. I believe you to be good and true, and I know of no other help. How I flew through the streets among the swaggering men! Monsieur, my mother is dying. My uncle is a captain of guards in the palace of the king. Some one must fly to bring him. May I hope———”
“Mademoiselle,” interrupted David, his eyes shining with the desire to do her service, “your hopes shall be my wings. Tell me how I may reach him.”
The lady thrust a sealed paper into his hand.
“Go to the south gate—the south gate, mind—and say to the guards there, ‘The falcon has left his nest.’ They will pass you, and you will go to the south entrance to the palace. Repeat the words, and give this letter to the man who will reply ‘Let him strike when he will.’ This is the password, monsieur, entrusted to me by my uncle, for now when the country is disturbed and men plot against the king’s life, no one without it can gain entrance to the palace grounds after nightfall. If you will, monsieur, take him this letter so that my mother may see him before she closes her eyes.”
‘‘Give it me,”’ said David, eagerly. “‘But shall I let you return home through the streets alone so late? I———”
“No, no—fly. Each moment is like a precious jewel. Some time,” said the lady, with eyes long and
