“The letter you want!” And in the deepest silence the letter was read by him which he had transcribed from Lorenza’s thought reading.
The countess stared as he proceeded and lost countenance.
“This is a slanderous forgery—deuce take it, have a care!” said Richelieu.
“It is the plain, literal copy of a letter from Lady Grammont on the way, by a courier from Rouen this morning, to the Duke de Choiseul at Versailles.”
“The duchess wrote such an imprudent letter?”
“It is incredible, but she has done it.”
The old courtier looked over to the countess who had no strength to say anything.
“Excuse me, count,” she said, “but I am like the duke, hard to accept this as written by the witty lady, and damaging herself and her brother; besides to have knowledge of it one must have read it.”
“And the count would have kept the precious original as a treasure,” suggested the marshal.
“Oh,” returned Balsamo, shaking his head gently; “that is the way with those who break open seals to read letters but not for those who can read through the envelopes. Fie, for shame! Besides, what interest have I in destroying Lady Grammont and the Choiseuls? You come in a friendly way to consult me and I answer in that manner. You want service done, and I do it. I hardly suppose you came fee in hand, as to a juggler in the street?”