“True; but it is a grave matter, when the quality of races is called into question.”
“A merely secondary question, after all. So that, in fact, you have never learned or heard anything in particular?”
“Nothing.”
“That is where my secret begins. The queen, you must know, instead of being delivered of a son, was delivered of twins.”
Fouquet looked up suddenly as he replied:
“And the second is dead?”
“You will see. These twins seemed likely to be regarded as the pride of their mother, and the hope of France; but the weak nature of the king, his superstitious feelings, made him apprehend a series of conflicts between two children whose rights were equal; so he put out of the way—he suppressed—one of the twins.”
“Suppressed, do you say?”
“Have patience. Both the children grew up; the one on the throne, whose minister you are—the other, who is my friend, in gloom and isolation.”
“Good heavens! What are you saying, Monsieur d’Herblay? And what is this poor prince doing?”