Count Hannibal

Until at last--but none knew what those minutes of suspense cost him--he

saw all mounted, and, pistol in hand, shepherded them to the back gates.

As he did so he stooped for a few scowling words with Badelon, whom he

sent to the van of the party: then he gave the word to open. It was

done; and even as Montsoreau's horsemen, borne on the bosom of a second

and more formidable throng, swept raging into the already crowded square,

and the cry went up for "a ram! a ram!" to batter in the gates, Tavannes,

hurling his little party before him, dashed out at the back, and putting

to flight a handful of rascals who had wandered to that side, cantered

unmolested down the lane to the ramparts. Turning eastward at the foot

of the frowning Castle, he followed the inner side of the wall in the

direction of the gate by which he had entered the preceding evening.

To gain this his party had to pass the end of the Rue Toussaint, which

issues from the Place Ste.-Croix and runs so straight that the mob

seething in front of the inn had only to turn their heads to see them.

The danger incurred at this point was great; for a party as small as

Tavannes' and encumbered with women would have had no chance if attacked

within the walls.

Count Hannibal knew it. But he knew also that the act which he had

committed rendered the north bank of the Loire impossible for him.

Neither King nor Marshal, neither Charles of Valois nor Gaspard of

Tavannes, would dare to shield him from an infuriated Church, a Church

too wise to forgive certain offences. His one chance lay in reaching the

southern bank of the Loire--roughly speaking, the Huguenot bank--and

taking refuge in some town, Rochelle or St. Jean d'Angely, where the

Huguenots were strong, and whence he might take steps to set himself

right with his own side.

But to cross the great river which divides France into two lands widely

differing he must leave the city by the east gate; for the only bridge

over the Loire within forty miles of Angers lay eastward from the town,

at Ponts de Ce, four miles away. To this gate, therefore, past the Rue

Toussaint, he whirled his party daringly; and though the women grew pale

as the sounds of riot broke louder on the ear, and they discovered that

they were approaching instead of leaving the danger--and though

Tignonville for an instant thought him mad, and snatched at the

Countess's rein--his men-at-arms, who knew him, galloped stolidly on,

passed like clockwork the end of the street, and, reckless of the stream

of persons hurrying in the direction of the alarm, heedless of the fright

and anger their passage excited, pressed steadily on. A moment and the

gate through which they had entered the previous evening appeared before

them. And--a sight welcome to one of them--it was open.