I would have told them at once that it had been a question of necessity and not at all of affection, but at that moment the bell rang and the second act began. I forgot my fair companions in the interest of the tragedy. The laughing voice of Mlle. de Valois aroused me.
“Ah, M. de Brancas,” she said, “it is evident that you have never before seen the ‘Œdipe.’ Here, sit beside me. If you are very good and answer my questions nicely I shall let you sit beside Louise, and you will have only yourself to blame if you do not make peace with her. She is dying of curiosity to learn the lady’s name. Have you heard from Richelieu?” she asked in a lower tone.
“I have heard only that he is on the road to Bayonne,” I answered.
“And you think he should remain there?”
“I believe it would be best for the present, mademoiselle.”
“Ah, but, M. de Brancas,” she said, “suppose you were Richelieu and I Louise Dacour. Would you remain at Bayonne? Do not answer me, I see in your face that you would not. Listen. Richelieu will be in Paris to-morrow night.”
“To-morrow night,” I gasped.
“Yes. He will doubtless go first to his hotel, where you will meet him. So soon as you see him give him this note,” and she handed me a little perfumed missive. “The note, I may as well tell you, states that at ten o’clock to-morrow night I shall be at the house of a friend in the Rue Jean Tison, the third house from the corner of the Rue Bailleul, on the right-hand side. Rap three times and the door will be opened to you without question. Mount the stairs to the first floor. Louise will be there also. Do you understand, monsieur?”
“Yes, yes,” I said, and placed the note in my pocket.
“You do not seem to consider any longer the danger to which Richelieu will be exposed,” she said, slyly.