"Why did you not notify me the moment that your son started on his trip?"
"I blundered," she mournfully admitted. "I did not realize that precautions are unavailing when one contends with intrigants of low breed. Why do you not have that monstrous impostor put in prison? He should be deprived of his mischief-making power. I trust to you, Baron, to dispel from his Majesty's mind any notion that I am implicated in this conspiracy. Assure him of my loyalty, of my condemnation of René's perversity. How iniquitous so to exploit a resemblance, a freak of Nature! 'Tis truly an amazing likeness. On seeing the girl I was almost petrified. She has the air, the face, the eyes, the mouth and even the gait of the martyr-queen. Mountebanks of that stripe always attract followers. Adhemar, for one, believes in him to the death. I shall banish him from the mill for his treason! O Baron, rescue René! If my son were to become a partisan of this impostor, I could not endure his Majesty's displeasure. Were I treated coldly at court, I should die of mortification. Reverence for my liege is my chief sentiment. My beloved husband used often to say to me, 'Matilde, let your first care be to please the king!'"
"That is not the question at present," drily rejoined the superintendent. "Your fidelity is evident to me. But what a mistake you made in not keeping me better posted."
"Do you fear, as do I, a clandestine marriage—one of those entanglements—?"
"Like that of his Highness, Duke Ferdinand, with the sentimental Amy Brown?" interposed Lecazes.
"Mon Dieu, no!" protested the duchess. "That was a vicious calumny."
"Well, your Grace, I shall try to nullify your mistakes. Compose yourself and depart. Pardon my abruptness. I require time to formulate plans and to prevent further trouble. Trust to me. The Marquis de Brezé will not rush headlong into marriage with a culprit's daughter. Such acts are not perpetrated in real life, impromptu, as in Cimarosa's operas. We shall find preventives for such an awkward faux pas."
The lady rose, drawing across her eyes a perfumed lace handkerchief.
"You are my protector," she said, clasping the baron's hand. To herself she said, "Trickster! Newly manufactured noble! Renegade Bonapartist!"
As soon as the duchess had departed, Lecazes clenched his fist and shook it vigorously in her direction. Then again placing a finger on the secret spring, he glided through the paneled door and passageway into the room where he had burned the documents. He called, in a low voice, to Volpetti.