“Yes,” replied Oliva, hastily, “you know, for you were there.”
“Excuse me, dear friend; I was there, but at a distance. I neither saw nor heard what passed within, I only know what you told me, that he talked and kissed your hands.”
“Oh, mon Dieu!” murmured Oliva.
“You surely could not have exposed us both to such a terrible danger without telling me of it.”
Oliva trembled from head to foot.
Jeanne continued. “How could I imagine that you, who said you loved M. Beausire, and were courted by a man like Count Cagliostro, whom you refused; oh! it cannot be true.”
“But where is the danger?” asked Oliva.
“The danger! Have we not to manage a madman, one who fears nothing, and will not be controlled. It was no great thing for the queen to give him her hand to kiss or to give him a rose; oh, my dear child, I have not smiled since I heard this.”
“What do you fear?” asked Oliva, her teeth chattering with terror.
“Why, as you are not the queen, and have taken her name, and in her name have committed a folly of this kind, that is unfortunately treason. He has no proof of this—they may be satisfied with a prison or banishment.”