“‘Let her alone, Sartines: I can refuse her nothing to-day.’
“As I was by, Sartines did not like to vex me by accusing you direct but he talked of the King of Prussia bolstering up the philosophers of a numerous and powerful sect formed of courageous, resolute and skillful adepts, working away underhandedly against his Royal Majesty. He said they spread evil reports, as for instance that the King was in the scheme to starve the people. To which Louis replied: ‘Let anybody come forward, saying so and I will give him the lie by furnishing him with board and lodging for nothing. I will feed him in the Bastile.’”
Balsamo felt a shiver run through him, but he stood firm.
“And the end?”
“It was the day after the sleeping potion, you understand,” he preferred my company to Sartines; and turned to me.
“‘Drive away this ugly man,’ I said, ‘he smells of the prison.’
“‘You had better go, Sartines,’ said the King.
“Seeing he was in a scrape, he came to me and kissing my hand humbly, he said: ‘Lady, let us say no more on this head—(your head, count)—but you will ruin the realm. Since you so strongly wish it, my men shall protect your protegé.’”
The conspirator was buried in thought.
“So you see you must thank me for not having been clapped into the Bastile,” concluded the countess: “not unjust, perhaps, but disagreeable.”