“Yes, Sir, yes; but the dot—the dowry you mentioned,” cried the Norman. “You have forgot that.”
“No, I have not,” replied Chavigni. “In favour of Louise, I will make the sum up one thousand crowns, which you will receive the moment you have married her.”
“Oh! I’ll marry her directly, if that be the case,” cried the Norman. “Morbleu! that makes all the difference.”
“But treat her kindly,” said Chavigni. “With the stipend of a thousand crowns, which I allow you yearly, and what you can gain by particular services, you may live very well; and perhaps I may add some little gratification, if you please me in your conduct towards your wife.”
“Oh! I’ll be the tenderest husband living,” cried the Norman, “since my gratification depends upon her’s. But I’ll run and fetch her to be married directly, if you will send the Priest, Monseigneur.”
“Nay, stop a moment,” said the Statesman. “You forget that I told you I had other journeys for you to take, and other services for you to perform.”
“No, Sir,” answered the Norman, “all is prepared to set out this very night, if you will tell me my errand.”
Chavigni paused for a moment, and remained in deep thought, gnawing his lip as if embarrassed by doubts as to the best manner of proceeding. “Mark me, Marteville,” said he at length: “there are two or three sorts of scoundrels in the world, amongst whom I do not look upon you as the least.” The Norman bowed with the utmost composure, very well aware of the place he held in Chavigni’s opinion. “There are, however, some good points about you,” continued the Statesman; at which Marteville bowed again. “You would rob, kill, and plunder, I believe, without remorse, any one you hated or did not care about; but I do not think you would forget a kindness or betray a trust.”
“Never!” said the Norman: “red-hot pincers will not tear from me what is intrusted to my honour.”
“So be it, then, in the present instance,” said Chavigni; “for I am obliged to give you the knowledge of some things, and to enter into explanations with you, which I do not often do with any one. You must know, then, I have information that on the same day that Monsieur de Cinq Mars set out from Chantilly with Monsieur de Thou, the Duke of Orleans, with Montressor and St. Ibal, took their departure from Moulins, and the Count de Fontrailles from Paris. They all journeyed towards the same point in Champagne. I can trace Fontrailles to Troyes, the Duke and his companions to Villeneuve, and Cinq Mars and De Thou to Nogent, but no farther. All this might be accidental, but there are circumstances that create suspicion in my mind. Cinq Mars, when he set forth, gave out that he went to his estate near Troyes, in which I find he never set his foot; and when he returned, his conference with Louis was somewhat long. It might have been of hawks and hounds, it is true; but after it, the King’s manner both to the Cardinal and myself was cold and haughty, and he suddenly took this resolution of coming to Paris himself to examine into the case of the young Count de Blenau:—in short, I suspect that some plot is on foot. What I require of you then is, to hasten down to Champagne; try to trace each of these persons, and discover if they had a conference, and where; find out the business that brought each of them so far, examine their track as you would the slot of a deer, and give me whatever information you collect; employ every means to gain a thorough knowledge of all their proceedings—force, should it be required—but let that be the last thing used. Here is this signet, upon the sight of which all the agents of Government in the different towns and villages will communicate with you.” And he drew from his finger a small seal ring, which the Norman consigned to his pocket, his hands being somewhat too large to admit of his wearing it in the usual manner.