"It was not only in regard to the Prince de Condé that your majesty could be of use to my friend, but in regard to the Prince de Porcian also, the brother of the one who was poisoned."
"Ah!" exclaimed Charlotte, "do you know, Réné, that your stories partake of the gruesome? You plead at a poor time. It is late, your conversation is death-like. Really, your perfumes are worth more." Charlotte again extended her hand towards the opiate box.
"Madame," said Réné, "before testing that, as you are about to do, hear what cruel results wicked men can draw from it."
"Really, Réné," said the baroness, "you are funereal this evening."
Henry frowned, but he understood that Réné wished to reach a goal which he did not yet see, and he resolved to push towards this end the conversation which awakened in him such painful memories.
"And," he continued, "you knew the details of the poisoning of the Prince de Porcian?"
"Yes," said he. "It is known that every night he left a lamp burning near his bed; the oil was poisoned and he was asphyxiated."
Henry clinched his fingers, which were damp with perspiration.
"So," he murmured, "he whom you call your friend knows not only the details of the poisoning, but the author of it?"
"Yes, and it is for this reason that he wished to ask you if you would use over the Prince of Porcian the remains of that influence and have the murderer pardoned for the death of his brother."