Presently Clement came to our
door, and exchanged a few words, but he said he must return to the
Coadjutor, who was in the best humour in the world.
The gates were closed, but the Coadjutor had no difficulty in passing
them, and we followed in his train. It was a dark night, but mounted
servants carried flambeaux, and we saw the light glance on the
Corinthians who guarded us. At last we stopped. We could not see
then, but I visited the place afterwards, and saw it was a tall brick
house, with a high wall round a courtyard. Here the Coadjutor's
carriage drew up, and entrance was demanded for "Monseigneur
l'Archeveque de Corinthe, Coadjutor de Paris." It may be supposed
that the dragoon who kept the door made no difficulty.
The carriage moved on, we drew up, and Clement, who had waited,
handed us out saying: 'He tells me we are just in time. Be as silent
as possible.'
We found the court lighted with torches, the Coadjutor's chaplain
arranging his purple robe, as he walked on through the doors that
were opened for him. Sir Francis led Madame Darpent, Clement gave me
his had, as we followed closely and noiselessly.
The chapel had its great wax candles alight on the altar. We could
see in, as we paused in the darkness of the antechapel, outside the
screen, while the Coadjutor advanced the door. My Margaret knelt,
clinging closely to a great stone image. The vile coward d'Aubepine
was commanding--for we heard him--his soldiers to seize her.
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