"I believe he is a military officer, in the dauphiness' dragoon guards, and named something like Baverne, or Faver—stop—it is Taverney."
"To-morrow he will sleep in prison," said the chief of police.
"Oh, dear, no," interrupted the countess out of deep silence; "that is not likely, for he is but an instrument and you will not punish the real instigators of the outrage. It is the work of the Duke of Choiseul. I shall leave the field free for my foes, and quit a realm where the ruler is daunted by his ministers."
"How dare you?" cried Louis, offended.
Chon understood that her sister was going too far, and she struck in.
She plucked her sister by the dress and said:
"Sire, my sister's love for our poor brother carries her away. I committed the fault and I must repair it. As the most humble subject of your majesty, I merely apply for justice."
"That is good; I only ask to deal justice. If the man has done wrong, let him be
chastised."
"Am I asking anything else?" said the countess, glancing pityingly at the monarch, who was so worried elsewhere and seldom tormented in her rooms. "But I do not like my suspicions snubbed."