Two o'clock had rung out from a neighbouring church tower when a slight rustling caught his listening ear, and presently one of the four rascals--the very man he had first seen--emerged from the shadow into the bright light streaming out into the passage from his open door.

The baron had sprung to his feet at the first sound, and stood erect on the threshold, sword in hand, with such a lofty, heroic, and triumphant air, that Merindol--for it was he--passed quickly by, without offering to molest him, with a most deprecating, crestfallen expression; a laughable contrast to his habitual fierce insolence.

His three doughty comrades followed in quick succession--but not one of them dared to attack de Sigognac, and they slunk out of sight as rapidly as possible.

He saluted each one with a mocking gesture as he passed, and stood tranquilly watching them as long as he could see them.

In a few minutes he had the satisfaction of hearing the stamping of horses' feet in the court-yard below, then the opening of the outer door to let them pass out into the street, and finally a great clattering of hoofs as they galloped off down the Rue Dauphine.
At breakfast the next morning the tyrant said to de Sigognac, "Captain, doesn't your curiosity prompt you to go out and look about you a little in this great city--one of the finest in the world, and of such high renown in history?
If it is agreeable to you I will be your guide and pilot, for I have been familiar from my youth up with the rocks and reefs, the straits and shallows, the scyllas and charybdises of this seething ocean, which are often so dangerous--sometimes so fatal--to strangers, and more especially to inexperienced country people.