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." I wrapped a dressing-gown about me, for the morning air was chill.
"Monsieur le Vicomte," said I gravely, "I heartily deplore that Monsieur de Marsac's affairs should have detained me here.

But for him, I had left Lavedan two days ago.