The word awoke new frenzy in me.
“My God! I am betrayed. For pity’s sake, sir, tell me where we go.”
“I answered, madam, to the palace. I am a man of my word.”
“What palace?”
“Ah! At length madam talks reason. To the Palace of Caserta, ten leagues away.”
I stared at him aghast.
“To be immured there?”
“Truly,” he said, “to be immured in a paradise, amongst fountains and flowers! It is not like the inside of a wall.”
“You are pleased to mock me, sir. But why am I brought so far?”
“Madam shall ask of her mirror,” he said, with a charming grin. “Shall I so abuse my office as to admit that His Majesty is susceptible; and that Madame the English Ambassadress—who, nevertheless, is of a perfect honour—is jealous for her friend the queen, and, perhaps, for her own pre-eminence in beauty? Certainly not. It is quite enough to say that Madame Lavasse, being in some danger of assassination in Naples, is removed to a distance for her own security; to a place, in short, whence she can direct the lightning, without exciting suspicion of collusion with Jupiter.”