style="font-size:15px;"> They remained motionless till the coach was out of sight, and then took their way towards the castle.
CHAPTER VI.
LAURENT
At this moment our heroines heard the clock strike from the church of St. Louis.
"Oh, mon Dieu! a quarter to twelve," they cried, in terror.
"See, all the doors are shut," said Andrée.
"Oh, that is nothing; for, if they were open, we would not go in here. Let us go round by the reservoirs." And they turned to the right, where there was a private entrance.
When they arrived there, "The door is shut, Andrée," said the elder lady, rather uneasily.
"Let us knock, madame."
"No, we will call; Laurent must be waiting for me, for I told him perhaps I should return late."
"I will call," said Andrée, approaching the door.
"Who is there?" said a voice from inside.
"Oh, it is not Laurent!" said she, terrified.
"Is it not?" and the other lady advanced, and called softly, "Laurent."
No answer.
"Laurent?" again she called, louder.
"There is no Laurent here," replied the voice, rudely.
"But," said Andrée, "whether he be here or not, open the door."
"I cannot open it."
"But Laurent would have opened it immediately."
"I have my orders," was all the reply.
"Who are you, then?"
"Rather, who are you?"
Rude as the question was, it was no time to find fault, so they answered, "We are ladies of her majesty's suite, we lodge in the castle, and we wish to get home."
"Well, I, mesdames, am a Suisse of the Salischamade company, and I shall do just the contrary of Laurent, for I shall leave you at the door."
"Oh!" murmured the ladies, in terror and anger.
Then, making an effort over herself, the elder lady said, "My friend, I understand that you are obeying orders, and I do not quarrel with you for that – it is a soldier's duty; only do me the favor to call Laurent – he cannot be far distant."
"I cannot quit my post."
"Then send some one."
"I have no one to send."
"For pity's sake!"
"Oh, mon Dieu, sleep in the town, that is no great thing; if I were shut out of the barracks, I would soon find a bed."
"Listen," said the lady again; "you shall have twenty louis, if you open this door."
"And twelve years at the galleys: no, thank you. Forty-eight francs a year is not sufficient pay for that."
"I will get you made a sergeant."
"Yes, and he who gave me the order will have me shot."
"And who did give you the order?"
"The king."
"The king!" cried they; "oh, we are lost!"
"Is there no other door?"
"Oh! madame, if this one is closed, be sure all the others will be so also," said Andrée.
"You are right, Andrée. 'Tis a horrible trick of the king," she said, with a contempt almost menacing.
There was a sort of bank outside the door, which they sank down upon in despair. They could see the light under the door, and could hear the steps of the sentinel as he paced to and fro.
Within this little door was salvation; without, shame and scandal.
"Oh! to-morrow, to-morrow, when they will find out," murmured the elder lady.
"You will tell the truth, madame."
"But shall I be believed?"
"Oh! we can prove it; besides, the soldier will not stay all night; he will be relieved, and perhaps his successor will be more complacent."
"Yes, but the patrol will pass directly, and will find me here, waiting outside. It is infamous; I am suffocated with rage."
"Oh, take courage, madame! you, who are always so brave."
"It is a plot, Andrée, in order to ruin me. This door is never closed. Oh, I shall die!"
At this moment they heard a step approaching, and then the voice of a young man, singing gaily as he went along.
"That voice," cried the lady, "I know it, I am sure."
"Oh, yes, madame, he will save us."
A young man, wrapped up in a fur riding-coat, came quickly up, and without noticing them, knocked at the door, and called, "Laurent."
"Brother," said the elder lady, touching him on the shoulder.
"The queen," cried he, taking off his hat.
"Hush," said she.
"You are not alone?"
"No, I am with Mademoiselle Andrée de Taverney."
"Oh, good evening, mademoiselle."
"Good evening, monseigneur."
"Are you going out, madame?" asked he.
"No."
"Then you are going in."
"We wished to do so."
"Have you not called Laurent?"
"Yes, we have, but – "
"But what?"
"You call Laurent, and you will see."
The young man, whom the reader has, perhaps, already recognized as the Comte d'Artois, approached and again called "Laurent."
"I warn you," answered from within the voice of the Suisse, "that if you torment me any more I will go and fetch my commanding officer."
"Who is this?" asked the count, turning round in astonishment to the queen.
"A Swiss who has been substituted for Laurent."
"By whom?"
"By the king."
"The king?"
"Yes, he told us so himself."
"And
