monsieur; but you are a friend of the king, and, as such, I beg you to hear me," said a humble voice at his side.
The duke turned. Near him was a man, bowing perpetually.
"Who are you?" asked the duke.
"Nicholas Poulain, monsieur."
"And you wish to speak to me?"
"I beg for that favor."
"I have no time."
"Not even to hear a secret?"
"I hear a hundred every day."
"But this concerns the life of his majesty," said Poulain, in a low voice.
"Oh! oh! then come into my cabinet."
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE REVELATION
M. D'Epernon, in traversing the antechamber, addressed himself to one of the gentlemen who stood there.
"What is your name, monsieur?" said he.
"Pertinax de Montcrabeau, monsieur."
"Well, M. de Montcrabeau, place yourself at that door, and let no one enter."
"Yes, M. le Duc;" and M. Pertinax, who was sumptuously dressed, with a blue satin doublet and orange stockings, obeyed. Nicholas Poulain followed the duke into his cabinet.
"Now let us hear your conspiracy," said the duke.
"Oh! M. le Duc, it concerns the most frightful crimes."
"They wish to kill me, I suppose."
"It does not concern you, monsieur; it is the king. They wish to carry him off."
"Oh! again that old story," replied the duke, disdainfully.
"This time the thing is serious, M. le Duc."
"On what day do they intend to do it?"
"The first time that his majesty goes to Vincennes in his litter."
"How will they do it?"
"By killing his two attendants."
"And who will do it?"
"Madame de Montpensier."
D'Epernon began to laugh. "That poor duchess; what things are attributed to her!"
"Less than she projects, monsieur."
"And she occupies herself with that at Soissons?"
"No; she is in Paris."
"In Paris!"
"I can answer for it."
"Have you seen her?"
"Yes."
"You thought you did?"
"I have had the honor of speaking to her."
"The honor."
"I am wrong; the misfortune."
"But, my dear lieutenant, the duchess cannot carry off the king."
"With her associates, of course."
"And where will she be when this takes place?"
"At a window of the Jacobin Priory, which is, as you know, on the road to Vincennes."
"What the devil do you tell me?"
"The truth, monsieur: all is prepared to stop the litter at the gate of the priory."
"And who made the preparations?"
"Alas! – "
"Finish quickly."
"I did, monsieur."
D'Epernon started back. "You, who denounce them!"
"Monsieur, a good servant should risk all in the service of the king."
"Mordieu! you risk hanging."
"I prefer death to infamy, or to the death of the king, therefore I came; and I thought, M. le Duc, that you, the friend of the king, would not betray me, and would turn my news to good account."
The duke looked fixedly at Poulain. "There must be more in it," said he; "resolute as the duchess is, she would not attempt such an enterprise alone."
"She expects her brother."
"The Duke Henri?"
"No, monsieur; only the Duc de Mayenne."
"Ah! good," said d'Epernon; "now I must set to work to counteract these fine projects."
"Doubtless, monsieur; it was for that I came."
"If you have spoken the truth you shall be rewarded."
"Why should I lie, monsieur; where is my interest – I, who eat the king's bread? If you do not believe me, I will go to the king himself."
"No, parfandious, you shall not go to the king: you shall have to deal with me, alone."
"I only said it because you seemed to hesitate."
"No, I do not hesitate; and, first, here are a thousand crowns for you, and you shall keep this secret between you and me."
"I have a family, monsieur."
"Well! a thousand crowns, parfandious."
"If they knew in Lorraine that I had spoken, each word would cost me a pint of blood; and in case of any misfortune, my family must be able to live, therefore I accept the thousand crowns."
The duke approached a coffer. Poulain thought it was for the money, and held out his hand, but he only drew out a little book and wrote, "Three thousand livres to M. Nicholas Poulain."
"It is as if you had them," said he.
Nicholas bowed, and looked puzzled.
"Then it is agreed?" said the duke.
"What, monsieur?"
"That you will continue to instruct me?"
Nicholas hesitated.
"What! has your noble devotion vanished already?"
"No, monsieur."
"Then I may count on you?"
"You may."
"And I alone know this?"
"You alone."
"Now you may go, my friend; and, parfandious, let M. de Mayenne look to himself."
When
