"_Mon Dieu_! but this surpa.s.ses all."

"Not in the least! I begged for your mercy at first; now I bring to you the Queen's commands."

She almost gasped, and then laughed out loudly. "The Queen's commands--the commands of Madame Grosse-Tete to me! Ha! ha! ha! I took you for an insolent fool; but you are mad, monsieur, mad!"

For answer I held out to her one of her letters to De Ganache.

"The Queen desires you to see this, madame. It is your own writing to a man you have killed, body and soul--and there are many others like this--so it would be useless to destroy it. Read it!"

She stared at me for an instant in blank amaze, and then s.n.a.t.c.hed the paper from me, her face white, her hands trembling. One glance at it, and she burst out:

"This is a forgery! A base forgery!" And then I laughed, for there would now be no mercy shown towards this she-wolf.

"There is no forgery there! And there are other proofs. What think you that your Syrian go-between will say when put to the question?

What of your glovemaker Camus, and the house in the Rue des Lavandieres? Madame, you are alone here but for a half score of your archers and that fool Crequy. Think you that with such proofs in her hand the Queen would hesitate even to arrest you?"

"Arrest me!" she stammered.

"Yes! There are charges enough. What think you that the King--Monsieur Grosse-Tete as you call him--will say when he sees these letters, and hears of the triangle, and learns that all France, and all Europe, will know his shame, and of the infamous grant you cajoled him into giving you?"

She shivered and looked around her as I went on coldly:

"Call your guards if you will; but I swear to you that if you do within the hour you will fall so low that the very women of the Marais and the Temple would pity you!"

"My G.o.d!" And with a shudder she put her hands to her face, and the letter fluttered down to the carpet. Stooping, I picked it up, and continued: "The Queen, however, is more merciful than you, and even you have your uses, madame, so that her Majesty will overlook your crimes, upon a condition." And I stopped.

For a s.p.a.ce she stood in silence, her head bowed, and her face covered.

At last she slowly put down her hands, and looked at me. Such a look!

"What is your condition?"

"It is not mine. I begged for your pity, and you denied me. This is the mercy of the Queen to you--the mercy of the woman you have wronged."

"Enough of that! What are the terms? Am I to be kept here waiting for ever?"

"Simply that Mademoiselle de Paradis is restored to the Queen unhurt, and fully pardoned, within twenty-four hours."

She bit her under lip till her white teeth left a vivid mark on it as I spoke, and then with an outbreak of wolfish fury:

"I will not! I will not!" And she stamped her foot. "She shall die--whatever happens--do you hear?"

"Perfectly! And in half an hour, I promise you, you will be arrested, and the story of your shame known to all. Do you think women like you have an empire that lasts for ever? You should take a lesson from the past, madame. Once the King's eyes are opened, and they will be in twelve hours, you will stand alone. But you have made your choice, and I will take your answer to the Queen."

With that I bowed, and made for the door. Ere I had gone half the length of the room, however, she called me back.

"Stay!"

I turned slowly, and faced her once more.

"Is it any use? You have answered me."

"No; I have not." Her voice was half strangled, and there were tears of anger and mortification in her eyes. "No; I have not," she repeated; and then gasped out: "I will do what you wish; but I want those letters back."

"That rests with the Queen. She makes no terms with you, and in that you must throw yourself on her pity."

With a low cry she suddenly flung herself down on the cushions, biting at them in impotent fury with her strong white teeth and tearing at the embroidery with her fingers. It was the fury of despair. It was the senseless rage of an animal, and I stood and watched, feeling that a desperate game was won, and almost pitying her, murderess, and worse, though she was.

After a while she looked up at me, her face haggard, her eyes livid.

"Have you no pity?" she moaned. "Are you made of steel?"

"Come, madame! I await your answer, and time presses."

She gave me a deadly glance, and rose slowly, clasping and unclasping he hands convulsively. At last she said:

"Very well. You shall have the pardon."

"In that case, madame, I am to say that your papers will be returned to you."

"Enough!" And with another burst of anger: "And now go--begone!"

"A moment!" And stepping towards the gong I struck it lightly with the hammer. Almost on the stroke the door opened, and Crequy appeared, his eyes staring with astonishment as he glanced from the one to the other of us.

"Monsieur de Crequy," I said, "madame has received ill news, and it is necessary for her to see the King at once. Madame will start for Fontainebleau in an hour--that will suit you, madame?" And I turned to La Valentinois.

"Yes."

"You will kindly make the necessary arrangements at once, monsieur--and the Queen's guards will supply the escort. Monsieur de Lorgnac and I accompany madame."

And with that I left them, Crequy staring after me in open-mouthed amaze.

CHAPTER x.x.x

FONTAINEBLEAU

"Where are we? Will this road never end?"

The voice of La Valentinois cut sharply into the warm, moonlit night; and De Lorgnac, who was standing near the window of the coach, answered:

"We are at the end of the plain of La Brie, madame, and have stopped to change your horses and breathe ours."

From over his shoulder I caught a glimpse of a beautiful, sullen face, and La Valentinois sank back again amongst her cushions, where we left her to her thoughts--such thoughts they must have been!

It was the first time she had spoken since we left the Louvre, whilst all the bells of Paris were chiming vespers. She had uttered never a word of protest, even when her Syrian was prevented from accompanying her, with the meaning order: "By the Queen's command!" and through the hours, as the coach, drawn by four horses at a gallop, jolted and swung over the weary road, she lay back, still as a stone, her eyes closed as if she slept.