Victor's glance was sullen.
"Wait a moment, man!" cried the vicomte, catching the count's cloak. "You can not mean to go running after madame in this fashion. You will compromise her. Besides, I have some questions to ask. What about De Brissac's play-woman?"
"Died in prison six days ago. She poisoned herself before they examined her." The count looked longingly toward the door.
"What! Poisoned herself? Then she must have loved that hoary old sinner!" The vicomte's astonishment was genuine.
The chilling smile which passed over the count's face was sinister. "I said she poisoned herself, advisedly."
"Oho!" The vicomte whistled, while Victor drew back.
"Now, Messieurs, will you permit me to go? It is high time you both were on the way to Spain." D'Hérouville stamped his foot impatiently.
"And you will go to Quebec?" asked the vicomte.
"Certainly."
"Well then, till Monsieur de Saumaise and I see you on board. We are bound in that direction."