"If the country south of the Loire is suggested," objected La Vireville, "the expedition will not have any support to speak of from the Chouans. I know the Breton; he will not willingly leave his province, even his corner of it. It will be as much as we can do to induce those of Northern Brittany to go to South Brittany, supposing, for instance, a landing were effected in the Morbihan, as being near Vendée."
"It was the Morbihan that Mr. Windham had in his mind, I think," said the Marquis de Flavigny. "He had even thought of a place, but he said that if it was finally decided upon, it would have, of course, to be kept secret till the last moment."
"And what was the place?"
René de Flavigny lowered his voice. "Quiberon Bay."
"Not a name of good omen to a Frenchman," observed the Abbé, thinking of Hawke's victory of nearly half a century ago.
"Where exactly is Quiberon Bay?" inquired M. de Soucy, who was of Lorraine.
The Chevalier de la Vireville pushed the map of Brittany towards him, putting his finger on a long, thin tongue of land at the bottom. "Permit me to observe, Messieurs," he said, "that we are wandering from the immediate question, which is, Verona or not Verona? I cannot see that to approach the Regent can do harm, and so long as I myself," he smiled, "am not required to undertake diplomatic service, I am more than willing to push a friend into it. If it be conceded that one of us should go, then I think that de Flavigny is the person. He has rank, something of diplomatic training in the past, and—though I say it to his face—an address likely to commend itself to Monseigneur. Then, too, René, you were in his household in old days, were you not?"
"I was one of his pages," assented the Marquis. "Well, gentlemen, if you wish it, I will go to Verona, and, I suppose, the sooner the better. Will you drink a glass of wine to my mission? Surely, Fortuné, that child is a nuisance, and must be asleep by now?"
For Anne-Hilarion, huddled in the tablecloth, was lying as still as a dormouse, and no longer sitting upright against his friend's breast, trying to follow the conversation.
"I will take him to bed," announced the émigré, without giving an opinion on the Comte de Flavigny's condition. "You permit, René?"