The Abbé had watched her for some time with increasing interest and considerable misgivings; the poison, he thought, should long ere this have taken effect, and he expected every moment to observe a disturbance of the placid features, a discolouration of the beautiful skin. Before supper was over, he concluded that, as far as the flowers were concerned, his plot had failed; but Malletort did not now need to learn the archer’s want of another arrow in the quiver, a spare string for the bow: it behoved him only to make the more use of such implements as he had kept in reserve.
All his energy and all his cunning had been brought into play during the night. Without his assistance, he felt sure the mummery of the cavern must have failed, for he could trust neither the shaking nerves of the Italian nor the superstitious self-deception of the quadroon. It was no easy task to return to Paris so swiftly as to change his dress, show himself at a reception in the Faubourg St. Germain, and thence proceed leisurely to sup with the Regent. Well-bred horses, however, and a well-broke valet, had accomplished this part of the undertaking, with a few seconds to spare. It now remained to play the last and most difficult strokes of the game. He felt equal to the occasion.
Moving round the table with his glass, in unceremonious fashion, he took advantage of George’s departure to place himself between Madame de Parabére and her host, whispering in that lady’s ear, “I have a favour to ask of the Regent, in which you, too, are interested!” She made room for him carelessly, listlessly, and her face looked so innocent and unsuspicious as to delude even his acuteness into the belief that the few faculties she could command were engrossed by Point d’Appui and his tormentor.
These were in full swing at a game called, in England, Flirtation. It is an elastic process, embracing an extensive area in the field of gallantry, and so far resembling the tournaments of the Middle Ages, that while its encounters are presumed to be waged with weapons of courtesy, blunted for bloodless use, such fictitious conflicts very frequently bring on the real combat à l’outrance with sharp weapons, and then, as in other death-struggles, væ victis! If girth breaks, or foot slips, the fallen fighter must expect no mercy.
Pitted against Point d’Appui, Madame de Sabran might be likened to an accomplished swordsman practising cut and thrust on a wooden trunk. But the block was good-natured and good-looking. When such is the case, I have observed that a witty woman takes no small delight in the exercise of her talent. There is a generosity about the sex not sufficiently appreciated, and if a man will only keep quiet, silent, receptive, and immoveable, it will pour its treasures at his feet in a stream of lavish and inexhaustible profusion.
Point d’Appui contented himself with looking very handsome and drinking a great deal of Burgundy. His neighbour hacked and hewed him without intermission, and Madame de Parabére’s attention seemed entirely engrossed by the pair.
Malletort, in possession of the Regent’s ear, proceeded diligently with the edifice for which he had so artfully laid the foundations.
“I must ask permission to take my leave early to-night, Highness,” observed the churchman. “Like our friend the Musketeer, who has served his purpose, by the way, as I learn, so may I be rubbed out of the calculation; and I must drink no more of this excellent Burgundy, for I have promised to present myself in a lady’s drawing-room, late as it is, before I go to bed.”
Though somewhat confused by wine, the Regent understood his confidant’s meaning perfectly well, and his eye kindled as he gathered its purport. “I will accompany you, little Abbé,” he whispered with a hiccough, and a furtive glance at the ladies, lest they should overhear.
“Too late, my Prince,” answered the other, “and useless besides, even for you, since I have not yet obtained permission. Oh! trust me. The fortress is well guarded, and has scarce ever been summoned; much less has it offered a parley.”