As for myself, I did not know, and, as I have hinted, I cared but
little, in what places my future life might lie. I had still a
little property by Beaugency, but scant inclination to withdraw to
it. To Paris I would not return; that much I was determined upon;
but upon no more. I had thoughts of going to Spain. Yet that
course seemed no less futile than any other of which I could bethink
me. I fell asleep at last, vowing that it would be a mercy and a
fine solution to the puzzle of how to dispose of the future if I
were to awaken no more.
I was, however, destined to be roused again just as the veil of
night was being lifted and the chill breath of dawn was upon the
world. There was a loud knocking at the gates of Lavedan, confused
noises of voices, of pattering feet, of doors opening and closing
within the chateau.
There was a rapping at my chamber door, and when I went to open, I
found the Vicomte on the threshold, nightcapped, in his shirt, and
bearing a lighted taper.
"There are troopers at the gate!" he exclaimed as he entered the
room. "That dog Saint-Eustache has already been at work!"
For all the agitation that must have been besetting him, his manner
was serene as ever. "What are we to do?" he asked.
"You are admitting them - naturally?" said I, inquiry in my voice.
"Why, yes"; and he shrugged his shoulders. "What could it avail us
to resist them? Even had I been prepared for it, it would be futile
to attempt to suffer a siege.
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