“That she is Louis’s pensioner sent here from France–a spy!” he answered, quickly and forcefully too. “The hawkers cry it in the streets.”
“Fools! Fools!” she mused. Then, making sure that no arras had ears, she continued: “Before the night is done, thou shalt hear that Luxembourg has fallen to the French–Mark!–Luxembourg! Feed the rabble on that, my lord. Heaven preserve King Louis!”
The Duke started incredulously. When had Portsmouth seen the King? and by what arts had she won the royal consent? A score of questions trembled on his lips–and yet were checked before the utterance. Not an intimation before of her success had reached his ear, though he had advised with the Duchess almost daily since their accidental meeting below Nell’s terrace. Indeed, in his heart, he had never believed that she would be able so to dupe the King. The shadow from the axe which fell upon Charles I. still cast its warning gloom athwart the walls of Whitehall; and, in the face of the temper of the English people and of well-known treaties, the acquiescence of Charles II. in Louis’s project would be but madness. Luxembourg was the key strategetically to the Netherlands and the states beyond. Its fall meant the augmentation of the Empire of Louis, the personal ignominy of Charles!
“Luxembourg!” He repeated the word cautiously. “King Charles did not consent–”
“Nay,” replied the Duchess, in her sweetest way, “but I knew he would; and so I sent the message in advance.”
“Forgery! ’Twas boldly done, Louise,” cried Buckingham, in tones of admiration mixed with fear.
“I knew my power, my lord,” she said confidently; and her eyes glistened with womanly pride as she added: “The consent will come.”
Buckingham’s eyes–usually so frank–fell; and, for some seconds, he stood seemingly lost in abstraction over the revelations made by the Duchess. He was, however, playing a deeper game than he appeared to play. Apparently in thoughtlessness, he began to toy with a ring which hung upon a ribbon about his neck and which till then had been cautiously concealed.
“Nay, what have you there?” questioned Portsmouth.
Buckingham’s face assumed an expression of surprise. He pretended not to comprehend the import of her words.