“And I know nothing,” whispered La Dubarry to the mesmerist. “But you have claimed the promise I made you to do anything you asked at the first request.”
“But this box may contain the matter of a dozen conspiracies,” said Sartines.
“My lord, you know that that is not a word to bring you good luck. Do not say it again. The lady asks for her box—are you going to give it to her or not?”
“But at least know, my lady—— ”
“I do not want to know more than I do know,” said the lady: “Restore me my casket—for I have not put myself out for nothing, I would have you to understand!”
“As you please, my lady,” said Sartines humbly and he handed the countess the box, into which Balsamo replaced the papers strewn over the desk.
“Count,” said the lady with her most winning smile, “will you kindly carry my box and escort me to my carriage as I do not like to go back alone through those ugly faces. Thank you, Sartines.”
“My lady,” said Balsamo, “you might tell the count who bears me much ill will from my insisting on having the box, that you would be grieved if anything unpleasant befel me through the act of the police and how badly you would feel.”
She smiled on the speaker.
“You hear what my Lord says, Sartines,” she said; “it is the pure truth: the count is an excellent friend of mine and I should mortally hate you if you were to vex him in any way. Adieu, Sartines.”