Anna sprang to her feet and made for the dressing-room door. ‘The secret passage!’ It did not take long to find the mechanism of the candlesconce that opened the door. Most unsatisfactory. He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. To these she added the wine and spirits directed, and when all was arranged looked inquisitively at her master. The passage was so narrow that there was only sufficient room for the cart to pass, with a single line of foot-soldiers on one side; and, as the walls of the bridge were covered with spectators, it was not deemed prudent to cross it till these persons were dislodged. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. Did she suppose him a possible pretender to her daughter’s hand? The girl—Dorothée, if memory served—was clearly marriageable, but he imagined most of these unhappy exiles were all but penniless.
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