“Yes, Philip of Spain. Who has a better right? He is the king’s uncle, the next in succession to the throne. And what is Orleans? He allows Dubois to manage the state while he spends his time with his mistresses at the back of the Louvre, there,” and Richelieu paused from sheer lack of breath.
“That may be,” I managed to say, “but what chance of success can there be?”
“Every chance,” cried the duke, rising from his chair and pacing excitedly up and down the room. “All Brittany is with us, and will rise to our support so soon as we choose to give the word. Half the nobility of the kingdom, whom Orleans has neglected no opportunity to insult, is with us. Alberoni, Philip’s prime minister, has collected troops. They will soon be at the frontier ready to invade France and depose the monstrous thing that governs it. Cellamare, Spain’s ambassador at Versailles, has all the threads in his fingers and is almost ready to strike. The train is laid and all that awaits is to apply the match. That will soon be done, and you will see Orleans tottering from the throne.”
“But does he not suspect?” I asked.
“Ah, that is the only thing,” and the light suddenly left Richelieu’s face. “Sometimes I think he does, sometimes I believe he does not. It is not Orleans himself I fear. He pays little heed to what is going on. But Dubois and Hérault,—that is another story. They have the police well organized. There are spies everywhere, and once or twice recently I have fancied I was followed, but that may have been for another reason. Indeed, the regent has no cause to love me.”
“And what is your part in this conspiracy, monsieur?” I questioned, for I felt that there was still something left untold.
“Ah, my part,” said Richelieu, his brow clouding still more. “Well, I will tell you, as I this evening told Madame du Maine. My part is to see that my regiment does not resist the Spanish army, but surrenders and opens to it the gates of Bayonne, the city where it is stationed, just at the foot of the Pyrenees.”
“But that is treason!” I cried, astounded at this disclosure.
“Treason to the regent, perhaps,” answered the duke, calmly, “but not to the king.”
So this was the victory the duchess had won! Well, she had reason to be proud of it. And as I sat, too bewildered to say more, there came a tap at the door, and Richelieu arose and opened it.