“Poor boy, I know you do! But, Roland, I also have to be inactive. Yet I have a scheme of my own, in case the other fails . . . You know the Trélan rubies? We had designed them, M. de Trélan and I, for Marthe on your wedding day. Now I have the thought of giving—of offering—them to someone else . . . as a price.”
“To whom?” asked Roland, leaning forward as the Duchesse unclasped them from under her dress.
“To Mme Bonaparte.”
Roland, a little startled, considered. “Would it be of any use?”
“She is said to be rapacious for jewels—and of Royalist leanings.”
“But what could she do?”
“Use her influence with her husband. What do you think of it, Roland?”
The young man on the window seat reflected. “You should consult M. Hyde de Neuville, Madame, not me. I know nothing of Mme Bonaparte. But——” He stopped and coloured a little.
“What, Roland?”
“Forgive me, Madame, but would the Duc approve of such a step?”