“And, in consequence,” continued the Vicomte, lowering his voice, “we are now so sure of them, that on the 24th letters were despatched to Coblentz, to the Princes.”
“Joint letters from the Girondins and the Royal party, I presume?”
Louis nodded. “Letters signed by both. Naturally, speculation is very rife as to the consequences of the unexpected combination.”
“So I can imagine,” commented his listener. Tragedy still held Comedy’s mask before her face. “And what do you yourselves think will be the result?”
“We hope that it will be the means of urging on Prussia’s declaration of war, which is sure to come sooner or later. Of course, the question is whether it will come in time. You have no doubt gathered that a certain reaction has set in since the 20th, and that the King may almost be said to be popular just now. If that will last, and if that damned Lafayette will but keep his finger out of the pie—thank Heaven! he went back to-day, and in disgrace too——”
“Well, if the King’s popularity lasts, what then?”
“My dear Gilbert, what need to ask? With that, and the support of the Gironde, we shall have the game in our hands in a few weeks. Come now, what do you think yourself of our prospects?”
“What do I think?” echoed the Marquis slowly. “Why, this—that for a party in your desperate position you are astonishingly trustful. What if the Gironde is playing you false?”
“Impossible!” said the Vicomte with decision. “They are committed too far. Why, Vergniaud himself—— And if you think that, why the devil did you join us?”
Château-Foix put down his ace. “Your question is very pertinent, Louis,” he replied in level tones. “I never did.”