The scaffold was erected, and yet Lavalette was saved! And no one was compromised--yes, a jailer lost his position; he is living on his income now." Marie-Anne caught eagerly at the idea so cleverly presented by Martial.
"Yes," she exclaimed, "the Count de Lavalette, protected by royal connivance, succeeded in making his escape." The simplicity of the expedient--the authority of the example--seemed to make a vivid impression upon the duke.

He was silent for a moment, and Marie-Anne fancied she saw an expression of relief steal over his face.
"Such an attempt would be very hazardous," he murmured; "yet, with care, and if one were sure that the secret would be kept----" "Oh! the secret will be religiously preserved, Monsieur," interrupted Marie-Anne.
With a glance Martial recommended silence; then turning to his father, he said: "One can always consider an expedient, and calculate the consequences--that does not bind one.

When is this sentence to be carried into execution ?" "To-morrow," responded the duke.
But even this terrible response did not cause Marie-Anne any alarm.
The duke's anxiety and terror had taught her how much reason she had to hope; and she saw that Martial had openly espoused her cause.
"We have, then, only the night before us," resumed the marquis.
"Fortunately, it is only half-past seven, and until ten o'clock my father can visit the citadel without exciting the slightest suspicion." He paused suddenly.

His eyes, in which had shone almost absolute confidence, became gloomy.

He had just discovered an unexpected and, as it seemed to him, almost insurmountable difficulty.
"Have we any intelligent men in the citadel ?" he murmured.