"Perhaps, madame," says Beaufort, turning towards Mademoiselle de Hautefort, "you will have the goodness to proceed in the relation of my supposed crime?"
"I have neither the wit nor the high spirits of her Grace of Lorraine," replies she, "to jest. I assure you, Duke, it is a very grave matter. You are in the utmost danger. The Cardinal has made her Majesty believe that his life was only saved by the accidental arrival of the Duc d'Orléans—who was going to dine at the same party—on horseback, and who, as a violent shower of rain came on, dismounted and got into the Cardinal's coach. His presence saved the Cardinal, the guard could not fire upon his Royal Highness. You may imagine the agitation of her Majesty."
"Capital, capital!" exclaims the Duchess, clapping her hands, and still laughing; "admirably done. I never gave your highness credit for so much invention. What a pity the Duc d'Orléans did not start a little sooner," adds she, in a lower voice, "or that it rained! Signor Giulio would have been in heaven by this time."
The Duc de Beaufort sees that Mademoiselle de Hautefort looks both concerned and vexed at this levity. He had left his mother and sister as he entered, in tears. Was it possible all this might be true?
"I beseech you, Duke, to leave the Louvre while you can," says Mademoiselle de Hautefort, very earnestly.
"But I am waiting here, madame, at the express command of her Majesty, until Mazarin, with whom she is now engaged in the council-chamber, retires."
"Are they alone?" asks the Duchess.
"Yes, madame."