“I have always hitherto supposed you to be a man of honour,” said the Cardinal coolly; “but what must I conceive now, Monsieur le Comte, when I tell you that I have those very letters in my possession?”
“You may conceive what you please, Sir,” replied De Blenau, giving way to his indignation; “but I will dare any man to lay before me a letter from her Majesty to the person you mention, which has passed through the hands of De Blenau.”
The Cardinal did not reply, but opening an ebony cabinet, which stood on his right hand, he took from one of the compartments a small bundle of papers, from which he selected one, and laid it on the table before the Count, who had hitherto looked on with no small wonder and expectation. “Do you know that writing, Sir?” demanded the Cardinal, still keeping his hand upon the paper, in such a manner as to allow only a word or two to be visible.
De Blenau examined the line which the Cardinal suffered to appear, and replied—“From what little I can see, I should imagine it to be the hand-writing of her Majesty. But that does not show that I have any thing to do with it.”
“But there is that in it which does,” answered Richelieu, folding down a line or two of the letter, and pointing out to the Count a sentence which said, “This will be conveyed to you by the Count de Blenau, who you know never fails.”
“Now, Sir!” continued the Cardinal, “once more let me advise you to give me all you possess upon this subject. From a feeling of personal regard, I have had too much patience with you already.”
“All I can reply to your Eminence,” answered the Count, not a little embarrassed, “is, that no letter whatever has been conveyed by me, knowingly, to the Governor of the Low Countries.”
De Blenau’s eyes naturally fixed on the paper, which still lay on the table, and from which the Cardinal had by this time withdrawn his hand; and feeling that both life and honour depended upon that document, he resolved to ascertain its authenticity, of which he entertained some doubt.
“Stop,” said he hastily, “let me look at the superscription,” and before Richelieu could reply, he had raised it from the table and turned to the address. One glance was enough to satisfy him, and he returned it to the Cardinal with a cool and meaning smile, repeating the words—“To Madame de Chevreuse.”
At first the Cardinal had instinctively stretched out his hand to stop De Blenau in his purpose, but he instantly recovered himself, nor did his countenance betray the least change of feeling. “Well, Sir,” replied he, “you said that you would dare any one to lay before you a letter from the Queen to the person I mentioned. Did I not mention Madame de Chevreuse, and is not there the letter?”