Madame de Chevreuse paused to look at Aramis, but it was perfectly dark. “Well, such is the rule, however,” she resumed. “I had, therefore, to appear to possess a power of usefulness of some kind or other, and I proposed to travel for the order, and I was placed on the list of affiliated travelers. You understand it was a formality, by means of which I received my pension, which was very convenient for me.”
“Good heavens! duchesse, what you tell me is like a dagger-thrust. You obliged to receive a pension from the Jesuits?”
“No, chevalier! from Spain.”
“Except for a conscientious scruple, duchesse, you will admit that it is pretty nearly the same thing.”
“No, not at all.”
“But surely of your magnificent fortune there must remain—”
“Dampierre is all that remains.”
“And that is handsome enough.”
“Yes; but Dampierre is burdened, mortgaged, and almost fallen to ruin, like its owner.”
“And can the queen-mother know and see all that, without shedding a tear?” said Aramis, with a penetrating look, which encountered nothing but darkness.