"And witness you tear it up, or . . . burn it like a love-letter?"
shrewdly.
Madame stiffened in her chair.
"Have you ever burned a love-letter, Madame?" asked the vicomte.
Madame turned pale from rage and shame. The rage nearly overcame the
fear and terror which she was so admirably concealing.
"Have you?" pitilessly.
"You . . . ?"
"Yes," intuitively. He touched the particles of burnt paper and
laughed.
"You were in this room?"
"I was. It was not intentional eavesdropping; my word of honor, as to
that. I came in here, having an unimportant engagement with a friend.
He was late. While I waited, in walked Monsieur le Chevalier, then
yourself."
"Monsieur, you might have made known your presence."
"It is true that I might; but I should have missed a very fine comedy.
Madame, I compliment you. How well you have kept undiscovered, even
undreamt of, this charming intrigue!"
Madame gazed at the door and wondered if she could reach it before he
could.
"So, sometimes you are called 'Diane'? You are no longer the huntress;
you are Daphne!"
"Monsieur!"
"And you would turn into a laurel tree! My faith, Madame, it was a
charming scene! You are as erudite as a student fresh from the
Sorbonne."
"Monsieur, this is far away from the subject."
"Let me see; there was a line worthy of Monsieur de Saumaise at his
best. Ah, yes! 'I kiss your handsome grey eyes a thousand times'! Ah
well, let us give the Chevalier credit; he certainly has a handsome
pair of eyes, as many a dame and demoiselle at court will attest. It
was truly a delightful letter; only the music of it was somewhat
inharmonious to my ears."
"Take care, Monsieur, that I do not choose the block. I am not wholly
without courage."
"Pardon me! Jealousy has an evil sting. I ask you to pardon me.
Besides, it was evident that you had some definite purpose in trifling
with the Chevalier. Well, he is out of the game."
"Do you know what brought him here?" veering into a new channel to lull
the vicomte's caution. She had an idea.
"I do; but it would not sound pleasant in your ears."
"He followed . . ."
"A woman?" with quick anticipation. "I do not say so. I brought him
into our conversation merely to prove to you that I was more in your
confidence than you dreamed of."
Madame drew her fingers across her brow.
"Does any one else know that you have this paper?" Madame manoeuvered
her chair, bringing it as close as possible to the table. Less than
three feet intervened between her and the vicomte.
"You and I alone are in the secret, Madame."
"If I should call for help?"
"Call, Madame; many will hear. But this paper, and the general fear of
Mazarin since the Fronde, and the fact that I have practically
obliterated my signature by scratching a pen across it . . . Well, if
you think it wise."