"Thanks, thanks, dearest Clémence," replied the Count, pressing her to his heart; "this is, indeed, balm after such a day as this: but I think, my Clémence, when you hear all, you will yourself exculpate me from blame,--though I fear that the charge of ingratitude which others may bring against me, will never be done away in the less generous minds of the world in general, without a terrible sacrifice. You I know, Clémence, will believe every word I tell you."
"Oh, every word!" she exclaimed; "to doubt you, Albert, were to doubt truth itself."
"Well, then, believe, Clémence," he said, "when I tell you, that till this morning,--till this very morning,--I had not the slightest idea whatsoever that my liberation was attributable to the King. Not only I, but all my domestics, every attendant that I have, my man Riquet himself, all believed that it was through an artifice of his that I had been set at liberty. Had I thought otherwise, upon my word, my first act would have been to fly to Versailles, to express my thanks, whatever my after conduct might have been."
He then explained to her every thing that had taken place, and the mistake under which he had himself laboured throughout.
"What confirmed me in the belief that the whole of Riquet's story was perfectly correct," he said, "was the fact that Besmaux, when he set me at liberty, observed that the order under which he did it, was not quite in the usual form, together with some remarks that he made upon there being no carriage sent for me with the order."
"Alas! alas!" cried Clémence, wringing her hands, "it was my weakness; it was my foolish fears and anxiety, that produced all this mischief. Listen to my tale now, Albert, and forgive me, forgive me for what I have done."
She then related to her lover almost all that had taken place between the King, herself, and Madame de Maintenon. We say almost, because she did not relate the whole; but though Albert of Morseiul saw it, he divined from what she did tell, that there were matters which she was bound not to divulge. Perhaps he divined the important truth itself, and at all events he did not love her a bit the less for a concealment which had no want of confidence in it.
"On the following morning," she said, "at the hour that the King had appointed, I did not fail to be in attendance. I found him writing; but it was soon over, and he handed me the paper, saying, 'There, lady, we have judged the cause that you have at heart as favourably as you judged ours last night. Tell him,' he added, 'when you see him, that--though we cannot alter the strict laws, which we have found it necessary to make, for his sake--we will grant him all that may reasonably make him happy, either in our own land, or in another!'"
"And I have borne arms against him," cried the Count, clasping his arms together.
"Yet hear me out, Albert," continued Clémence, "for the fault is mine. The order was for your immediate liberation. I took it eagerly, thanked the King, and retired, well knowing that it ought to be countersigned by Louvois, and sent through his office. But during the evening before, on the occasion of something that was said, he gave me such a fiend-like look of revenge, that I knew he would seek your destruction, if not mine. I was well aware, too, that in many an instance he has interrupted the King's clemency, or his bounty; and weakly, most weakly, I sent the order without his signature--ay, and without a moment's delay, by a servant belonging to the Duc de Rouvré. Thus, thus it was, that I, in my eagerness for your safety, have plunged you into new dangers,--dangers from which, alas! I fear that there is scarcely a possible means of escape."