'So that is what he said to you!' she cried, throwing herself back in a chair. He is mad. He wants to be my "Plenipotentiary "-he wants to be a baron. Well, let him pass for a baron! Let us make him a baron!' 'Plenipotentiary to the Shades of Night!' thought Lucien. The expression sounded familiar. 'I always thought his baronetcy wanted confirmation,' observed Guibourg. His affection needs none. No one ever kissed the hem of my skirt before.' 'I only hope he did not see what I did that Your Royal Highness's skirt was remarkably clean for a skirt that had been taking a walk in the same direction as Your Royal Highness's boots.' 'Dear Monsieur Guibourg, he is not a born detective as you are.' 'I do not understand how Your Royal Highness can possibly trust him,' put in de Mesnard. In my opinion he is a traitor.' 'What is your opinion, Monsieur Lucien?' Lucien's voice shook. 'Madame, it agrees in every point with that of Monsieur de Mesnard.' Her face clouded over. But he was recommended to me by more than one of the Cardinals.' 'Indeed!' said Guibourg politely. 'By the Pope himself!' No one said anything. She grew impatient. 'In short, I trust him as I should one of yourselves.' All three were silent. 'Heavens!' cried Guibourg. 'I forgot the lantern. They cannot have crossed the courtyard yet. Lucien, the lantern!' A minute or two afterwards Jeanne, watching at her window, saw the light flash upon the face of the timidly insistent man who had taken the letter from her on the highroad to Nantes. CHAPTER XXXIII JEANNE REFUSES THERE was no doubt left in her mind. He was Thiers' agent. What if Lucien were taken? This very night some dreadful, inevitable thing might occur. She was putting on her hat when Guibourg burst into the room; she could have fallen on her knees when she saw Lucien behind him. 'Well, Mademoiselle Jeanne! What of the baron?' 'He is the man who met me on the road.' 'One of Thiers' spies. I thought as much. So did you' Guibourg turned to his friend abruptly. Lucien nodded. 'Her Royal Highness must be warned at once.' 'He does not know that she is living at No. 3. He thinks she came from a long distance.' 'Does he, I wonder?' said Guibourg. 'He must be very simple if he does-simpler than I take that fellow to be. A man who could deceive Madameand let a hat and shawl and a pair of muddy boots deceive him! Of course he acts badly. I thought at one moment it could not be acting at all. No, do not come with me, Lucien. You are not fit for any more detective work to-night.' 'I must know.' You see the centre window of the parlour? She may decide that nothing can be done at present; she may decide on active measures. If the blind rises twice, I will come over to you as soon as I can. If it rises only once, you will know that I am going to bed, and you will have the goodness to follow my example. You were right, Mademoiselle Jeanne! I ought not to have taken him. Give him some brandy.' Lucien was indeed white as a sheet. He did not ask Jeanne to stay; he seemed to forget her; but when she had put on her hat and jacket and bidden him good-night, he pointed to the window across the road and said: 'Stay!' Two notes were crushed together in his handMadame's, and another from the marquis, which mademoiselle du Guiny had given him. A few minutes later the blind was slowly raised and lowered; it did not rise again. 'I must go home now.' 'Wait-wait a moment! Why are you in such a hurry? Your lilies are not finished.' 'I cannot finish them to-night; I hate lilies!' Lucien continued to gaze out of window. 'Mademoiselle Jeanne,' he said slowly, 'you have been good to me. You have done for a friend what few women would have done except for a lover-or for the love of God. I want to ask you this-will you take me, your friend, for your husband?' 'No,' said Jeanne, as she would have answered an indifferent question, her voice neither raised nor lowered. This the question of questions to her-was to him indifferent. She knew that; still, it was well for her that she could not see the look of relief on his face. Had she done so, the word she added in her heart might have been a longer word than Not yet. 'You will let me be your brother?' he said—more grateful to her now than at any previous moment of his life. He longed to give her something. Jeanne nodded assent. She was full of horror at herself because she shrank. Quicker to feel than to understand, he knew dimly that he had said a cruel thing, and distress-for he was gentle of heart-confused him and made him blunder worse. 'I used to think that I honoured women too little to love them,' he explained, with fervent conviction. 'You have changed that. I think I honour them now too much.' If Jeanne had not laughed, she must have cried. She took the braver part and laughed-more than was needful. Lucien, though bewildered as to the cause of her amusement, breathed again; he could not have hurt her much, if she laughed. 'But why?' said he. I cannot tell you how grateful I am.' 'Oh, not that, not that!' she cried, and the laugh changed into another sound. 'Why not?' Jeanne plucked up courage. ground now she could speak. She was on safe 'Brothers and sisters are never grateful to each other.' 'Are they not? I never had any. I do not know.' |