“Fie, Monseigneur, men of honor like us! a conspiracy! Oh! not at all; a league at the utmost, a slight combination to give a direction to the unanimous wish of the nation and the court—that is all.”
“But that is not so clear, for, after all, this affair will be neither general nor public; therefore, it is a conspiracy. You will not avow that you are concerned in it.”
“I, Monseigneur! Excuse me to all the world, since the kingdom is already in it, and I am of the kingdom. And who would not sign his name after that of Messieurs de Bouillon and Cinq-Mars?”
“After, perhaps, not before,” said Gaston, fixing his eyes upon Fontrailles more keenly than he had expected.
The latter hesitated a moment.
“Well, then, what would Monseigneur do should I tell him the names after which he could sign his?”
“Ha! ha! this is amusing,” answered the Prince, laughing; “know you not that above mine there are not many? I see but one.”
“And if there be one, will Monseigneur promise to sign that of Gaston beneath it?”
“Ah, parbleu! with all my heart. I risk nothing there, for I see none but that of the King, who surely is not of the party.”
“Well, from this moment permit us,” said Montresor, “to take you at your word, and deign at present to consent to two things only: to see Monsieur de Bouillon in the Queen’s apartments, and Monsieur the master of the horse at the King’s palace.”