I glanced at the duchess in surprise, for this was the first indication of selfishness I had detected in her.
“He expressly charged me to tell you, madame,” I said, a little stiffly, “that his arrest would make no difference to your plans so far as Bayonne is concerned. The regiment and the town council are ready and understand perfectly what is expected of them.”
“Then all is well,” cried the duchess.
“Pardon me, madame,” I objected, “but all is not well. M. de Richelieu is in the Bastille.”
“Well, he will not remain there long. In a week we shall have control of Paris, and the doors will be opened for him.”
“But if the conspiracy fails, madame?”
“In that case, monsieur,” said the duchess, haughtily, “we shall none of us be in better case than is M. de Richelieu at this moment. But who talks of failure? We shall not fail. We cannot fail,” and I thought as I looked at her that with a few more leaders such as she failure would indeed be impossible. But one woman against all France was heavy odds.
“Believe me, M. de Brancas,” she continued, in a gentler tone, “I can at this time do nothing for our friend. I have no influence with the regent, and a word from me would do Richelieu more harm than good.”
I recognized the justness of her words, and said as much.
“Anything I can do shall be done, rest assured of that,” she added. “By the way, monsieur, I shall look for you at my salon to-night. We have need that all our friends should gather to us.”