And then she rose quickly, stepping back into the shadows, as the door opened again. She thought Herrick was returning, and she would not have him see her tears. It was not Herrick, it was Father Bertrand.
"Did your master send you to me?" she asked.
"Mademoiselle, I have no masters but the Church and my conscience."
She laughed, dashing the last tears from her eyes.
"The Duke you have helped to make should reward you well."
"Even a priest may be mistaken, mademoiselle," Father Bertrand said slowly. "I came to talk to you about the Duke. Already they do not love him in Vayenne."
The priest went to the door, opened it quickly to surprise any listener there might be, then closed it again, and stepped to Christine's side.
"His friends were chiefly his friends because of you, mademoiselle. They thought you believed in Roger Herrick, that he had your support. At your word Vayenne would rise to-morrow."
Christine did not answer for a moment. Her power suddenly frightened her. Then she said slowly:
"I will listen attentively to all you have to say, Father Bertrand. You find me a prisoner and in the mood to be rebellious."
And the room grew dark as the priest talked, yet she did not call for lights.
Even the busier streets of Vayenne were quieter now after nightfall than they were wont to be. Those who were abroad went quickly and direct to their destination, for to loiter, or appear to have no particular object in view, was to be suspected. The new Duke was ruling the city with a heavy hand, and those who passed in and out of the gates were closely questioned. A few there were who approved this caution; it was temporary only, and justified by the rumors of disturbance on the frontier; but others, and they were the majority, were discontented and sullen. Had they not helped to place a tyrant at the head of the state? Would there have been any trouble on the frontier if Count Felix had become their Duke?
Few people passed along the dimly lighted Rue St. Romain even in the daytime, and at night it was practically deserted. Those who went to visit Father Bertrand were fewer now than formerly. He was heart and soul for Duke Roger, had evidently been privy to the sudden and unexpected claim to the throne, and many began to mistrust him. They waited, expecting to hear that great honors had been showered upon him for his services. He was surely a politician seeking place and power rather than a priest.