Shrugging her shoulders the woman exclaimed, "Yes, and--alas!--still it was not done. He is alive and the King by now knows all. Only--will he believe upon this man's testimony alone? Will he act at once, without further proof or corroboration, ere he is sure?"
When Emérance de Villiers-Bordéville, as she called herself, asked this question, she did not know, could not know that there had already come a letter from England from Louise de Kéroualle, Duchess of Portsmouth--herself a spy of France--to Louis, telling him as much as, if not more than, Humphrey West could tell him of the Norman plot against him. Nor could she also know that, from Basle, had come another letter from the Duchesse de Castellucchio telling him in more guarded language (since she, at least, could not betray De Beaurepaire) of what she had gathered, and bidding him beware of Spain and Holland.
"I know not what he will do, nor what he will believe, nor if any name is yet divulged," the Prince replied, "though, when he spoke with me last evening ere I left him, he dwelt strangely, ay! and strongly too, on our boyhood's companionship and my command of all his guards. But, Emérance, tell me what was said of me that night in your room. Was my name spoken so that this man listening in the next one might easily catch it; was my share in all laid bare? Think, recall; and speak boldly to me. For if it was----"
"Then there is but one thing left. Flight----"
"Nay, never. But flight together. I will never part from you in life. As man and wife we fly together."
"Never otherwise! Now, Emérance, speak. Tell all."
"If," Emérance said, after meditating deeply for some moments, while there was on her face the look which all have seen when those with whom they converse are thinking carefully, or endeavouring to recall some once spoken words; "if--if--this man overheard me and La Truaumont the first night, then--_he_--heard your name. Because La Truaumont said that you might rise to even higher flights than the proud position of a De Beaurepaire."
"_Dieu des Dieux!_ If he did hear! Well! On the next night?"
"On the next night," Emérance continued, "ah! let me recall. Yes. On the next night your name was again uttered. By me--accursed be my tongue!--when I spoke of rejoining you here in Paris, and by La Truaumont by the sobriquet I love to hear applied to you, that of '_Le Dédaigneux_.' For disdainful you are to all--except to me," her voice sinking to a murmur as she added those last two words.
