“Our mission is, then, a secret one?” I asked, as we entered this street.
“No, not just that,” answered the girl, smiling at me, “and yet it is well to be cautious. We are going to see a gentleman who lives in the Rue Villedot. I have been there many times. But there are always a dozen police spies hanging about the entrance to the Tuileries, and I avoid them when I can.”
“Mademoiselle,” I asked, suddenly, “the police department is well organized, is it not?”
“Splendidly,” she answered. “This man, Hérault, who is at the head of it, has a genius for the work, and no one is safe from him.”
“Do you think, then,” I continued, “that the plans of Madame du Maine are altogether unknown to him?”
“I can only hope so,” she said, and her face grew lined with anxiety. “Yet, even if he did suspect, that would not be enough. He cannot know the details of our plans, and without something more definite than suspicion even the regent would not dare raise his hand against a princess of the blood. We are hurrying our preparations forward as rapidly as we can, and hope to be the ones to strike the first blow. Everything depends upon that,” she added. “We have gone too far and the end is now too near to turn back, monsieur, or we might, perhaps, await a better time.”
“But success,—can you win success?” I persisted.
“It is certain,” and her face was alight with enthusiasm, “provided only we are undisturbed a single week longer.”
We had again reached the busy portion of the city, and the uproar drowned our voices. Besides, I had sufficient to think about in protecting my companion from the crowd of passing carriages.
“We must hasten,” she cried, suddenly, “or we shall be caught in the rain.”