Belle Rose: A Romance of the Cloak and Sword — page 300: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

284 THE BEGGAR. The bridles had been tampered with the same as the girths. These two accidents, succeeding each other so closely, awoke Bouletord’s suspicions; while one of his men was entering the shop of a harness maker he looked around him. ‘‘Where is Grippard?’’ he exclaimed. ‘*He is not with us,’’ answered one of the archers. ‘‘Has any one seen him?”’ ‘“‘T have!’’ said another archer; ‘‘I was on guard at the stable when he entered it almost an hour ago.’’ ‘‘Double traitor!’’ howled Bouletord; ‘‘if Ido not cut his heart out of him, may I be damned.”’ The bridles fixed the troop moved off. Belle-Rose and Cornelius had taken their course through the Rue du Four; at the carrefour of Buci, they found a soldier of the watch who wished to oppose their passage. Belle-Rose’s horse struck him in the breast, and the soldier rolled over on the ground. They threw themselves into the Rue Dauphine, which was crossed in an instant. At the en- trance of the Pont Neuf they saw a squad of police. Dé- route perceived them first. He set spurs to his horse and threw himself in front, followed by Grippard. ‘Run to them,’’ said Déroute, ‘‘and cry with all your might, ‘Service of the king!’ ”’ ‘““Why?’’ said Grippard. ‘‘Go and cry first, mordieu!’’ Grippard ran to the troop and cried, in his loudest voice: ‘*Service of the king!”’ The troop opened, and the fugitives passed like a thunderbolt. After the Pont Neuf they took the quays and gained the Hotel de Ville. The little troop took the St. Denis road. The plan of the fugitives was very simple; they counted, at the end of a dozen leagues, to gain a farm in the country, to pass the night there, and to return the next day to Paris, where no one would think to look for them; then, at the first good opportunity, they would join Mon- sieur de Luxembourg and place themselves under his im- mediate protection. The road which they followed led to Pontoise. The horses were vigorous, the night limpid, the sky luminous. They pushed on as far as Franconville. At Franconville, Déroute knocked at the door of an inn and asked for a sack of oats, which he paid for without haggling. They made a halt under the trees, at thirty steps from the road, and the provender was placed under the noses of the horses, who immediately went to eating 1EbDoo S ( (E(0) 5}