“Because they are my friends, monsieur.”
“Ah! But my police tell me that you have been in Paris but ten days. You seem to make friends quickly.”
“Monsieur,” I answered, “I admit that ten days is not a long time, but in that time M. le Duc de Richelieu has twice saved my life. It will take me much longer than ten days to repay that indebtedness.”
Orleans looked at me a moment, and I fancied there was kindness in his eye. I admit the man pleased me, for he had an engaging address and an affable and kindly manner. I reflected that in his youth this man had been of high courage and ambition, and that if he had become a profligate, it was largely the fault of the king, who had always hated him, and of the Abbé Dubois, who had been his preceptor. Doubtless something of my thought appeared in my face, for the regent smiled somewhat sadly.
“You have heard horrible stories about me, have you not, M. de Brancas?” he asked. “It was I, they say, who poisoned the young Duke and Duchess of Burgundy, who am an astrologer, an alchemist, and an intimate friend of the devil.”
“Oh, monsieur,” I stammered, “but I have never believed such calumnies.”
“No,” said the regent, “I do not think that any one who knows me really believes them. Only my enemies use them against me in order to pull me down. But the kingdom will endure, no matter who assaults it. Do you believe in fate?” he asked, abruptly.
“Undoubtedly, monsieur,” I answered, and I looked at him with astonished eyes.
He smiled as he glanced at me.
“You may understand, then,” he said, “why I do not fear. For I believe that it is fate which has committed to my hands the destinies of this kingdom. And I intend to deserve the trust,—I intend to make it a kingdom better worth living in.”