“No, madame.”
“Thus, then, there is a woman whose resemblance to me is striking, and you do not know her. I fear your police is badly organized.”
“No, madame; a police magistrate is but a man, and though the vulgar may rate his power as something almost superhuman, your majesty is more reasonable.”
“Still, sir, when a man has secured all possible powers for penetrating secrets, when he pays agents and spies, and to such an extent as to know every movement I make, he might prevent this sort of thing.”
“Madame, when your majesty passed the night out, I knew it, the day you went to see madame at the Rue St. Claude; therefore my police is not bad. When you went to M. Mesmer’s, my agents saw you. When you went to the Opera——”
The queen started.
“Pardon me, madame, if I saw you; but if your own brother-in-law mistook you, surely an agent at a crown a day may be pardoned for having done so. They thought they saw you, and reported accordingly; therefore my police is not bad. They also knew this affair of the journalist, so well punished by M. de Charny.”
“M. de Charny!” cried the queen and Andrée in a breath.
“Yes, madame: his blows are yet fresh on the shoulders of the journalist.”
“M. de Charny committed himself with this fellow!”