“The game?” faltered the prince.
“The plot; for it is one of those plots for which, if discovered, Favras will be tried and doomed to death—unless by money and other means we save him as we did Bezenval.”
“Then you will save Favras.”
“No; for I might not be able to do as much for him. Besides, Bezenval was my liege as Favras is yours. Let each save his own man, and both of us shall have done our duty.”
He rose, but the Queen retained him by the skirt of the coat.
“Sire, whether you accept or refuse, you owe the marquis an answer. What is Viscount Charny to answer for the King?”
“That the King does not allow himself to be spirited away like a slave for the Louisiana plantations.” He disengaged his coat.
“This means,” said Provence, “that the King will not allow of the abduction but if it be executed in spite of his permission, it will be welcome. In politics success condones the crime and blunderers deserve double punishment.”
“Viscount,” said the Queen, “tell the marquis what you heard and let him act as he thinks it points. Go.”
The King had gone over to where the younger men were so hilariously chatting; but the deepest silence fell at his approach.