“You are right, M. de Breteuil; this affair must be cleared up. But who is that passing below? Is it not M. de Rohan going to the chapel?”
“Not yet, sire; he does not come till eleven o’clock, and he will be dressed in his robes, for he officiates to-day.”
“Then I will send for him and speak to him.”
“Permit me to advise your majesty to speak first to the queen.”
“Yes, she will tell me the truth.”
“Doubtless, sire.”
“But first tell me all you know about it.”
M. de Breteuil, with ingenious hate, mentioned every particular which he thought could injure M. de Rohan. They were interrupted by an officer, who approached the king, and said, “Sire, the queen begs you will come to her.”
“What is it?” asked the king, turning pale. “Wait here, M. de Breteuil.”