‘Dead!’ repeated the Marchioness, feigning the same surprise with which she had received the self-same words from Sainte-Croix such a short time previously. ‘Dead! and I was not there!’
‘No, Marie!’ returned François d’Aubray; ‘and I come to find you at Versailles—in this licentious court, not with females in whom you might have confided your reputation, after what has already occurred, but with the man by whose wretched acquaintance with you the last days of your father’s life were poisoned.’
Marie started at the words: could it be possible that the cause of death was suspected?
‘Ay, poisoned,’ continued her brother, ‘as fatally as though real venom had been used, instead of this abandoned heartlessness.’
The Marchioness breathed again.
‘To whom do you refer?’ she asked coldly.
‘To Monsieur de Sainte-Croix,’ replied her brother.
‘Who is here to answer any charge you may have to make against him, monsieur,’ interrupted Gaudin, who just now joined the party.
‘You shall have the opportunity afforded you, monsieur,’ replied François d’Aubray; ‘but this is neither the time nor the place. Marie, you will return with me immediately to Paris.’
‘With you, François?’