"Monsieur," said the pretended princess, hoping to awe Canolles by reasserting her dignity, "of all you say to me I understand but one thing, and that is that you insult me!"
"Madame," said Canolles, "we do not fail in respect to God because we adore him. We do not insult angels because we kneel before them."
And Canolles bent forward as if to fall on his knees.
"Monsieur," said the countess, hastily, checking him with a gesture,—"monsieur, the Princesse de Condé cannot suffer—"
"The Princesse de Condé, madame, is at this moment riding along the Bordeaux road on a good horse, accompanied by Monsieur Vialas her equerry, Monsieur Lenet her adviser, her gentlemen in waiting, her officers, her whole household, in short; and she has no concern in what is taking place between the Baron de Canolles and the Vicomte, or Vicomtesse, de Cambes."
"What are you saying, monsieur? Are you mad?"
"No, madame; I am simply telling you what I have myself seen and heard."
"In that case, if you have seen and heard all that you say, your mission should be at an end."
"You think so, madame? Must I then return to Paris, and confess to the queen that, rather than grieve the woman whom I love (I name no one, madame, so do not look so angrily at me), I have violated her orders, allowed her enemy to escape, and closed my eyes to what I saw,—that I have, in a word, betrayed, yes, betrayed the cause of my king?"