"Your bogey has vanished, Albert," cried Madame Coutance in triumph; "I told you there was no danger."
"I trust madame will prove the surer prophet, but I am still doubtful."
"Here they come again!" cried Marie. "What a horrid din! What are they doing, Albert?"
"Singing, but I cannot distinguish the words. They are growing more restless now. I should like to see D'Artagnan ride up with his troopers; he would soon clear the road. But I expect there is sufficient work for him in other parts."
For a while we stood, half hidden by the heavy curtains, watching the antics of the crowd, and wondering what would happen next. The people moved to and fro like caged animals, walking a few steps and turning back or crossing repeatedly from one side of the road to the other. A body of soldiers would have dispersed them easily, as they had neither purpose nor leader.
Presently they began to cluster more thickly at a spot some twenty yards below our house, and then I saw a big ragged fellow holding aloft a red flag, while another was pointing to it, and talking violently. I could not hear what he said, but every now and then the crowd shouted approval of his words.
"The fellow is hatching trouble," I muttered to myself, and, almost unconsciously, I felt for Le Tellier's note.
"They will attack the Palais Royal," said Madame Coutance. "They are angry because the prince has been driven away. I am sorry for the Queen, but they will not hurt her, if she promises to recall him."
"Be still!" I exclaimed with more freedom than politeness, "and listen. Now, can you understand?"
It had come at last. Chance or fate had given the mob a cry, which was all they needed. They were bent on plunder and violence, and any excuse was good enough. Low, deep, and stern, like the early rumblings of a volcano, the cry sounded; then the volume swelled, became clearer and more piercing, till at last in one stupendous roar it shook the place.
Marie shivered and gave a gasp of terror, but her aunt still smiled scornfully; she was really an amazing woman.
"What imbeciles!" she exclaimed; "they do not know who is their best friend."
"Nor care," said I, "they intend being their own friends this evening. Stay there a moment while I see to things downstairs."