“Fate. I escorted the girl I had rescued home to see her safe—and what house did she bring me to but the house of the Dubarrys. I was giving her a kiss in the passage when Jean Dubarry appeared, he invited me in, I came, the woman I spoke of was there, and at the sight of her, knowing that she was the Countess’ friend, I flung in my part with the Dubarrys and told of the plot. I was not breaking a trust, I had made no promise of secrecy, the thing had disgusted me—and I told.”
“And the name of this woman for whose sake you have got yourself into this dreadful mess?”
“Ah, now you are asking me to tell something that I would not tell to anyone but yourself—it was Mademoiselle Fontrailles.”
“Mademoiselle Fontrailles—why only yesterday——”
“Yes?”
“Well, I heard—it is said—but I don’t know how much truth there is in the story, that she is in love with Camus.”
Rochefort laughed.
“Camus again and Fate again.”
“But there may be no truth in it. Some fool told me, I forget who, Joyeuse, I think. You know how stories run about Paris.”
“It is true,” said Rochefort, “it is the only thing wanting to make the business complete. Whilst I have been tucked away at Vincennes, Monsieur Camus has improved his time. You know the way he has with women. Well, I do not care; that is to say about the girl, but I will make things even with Camus.”