“We shall, with your Highness's permission,” said the Marshal, “leave all questions to the future. Let us return to the archbishop, who is doubtless awaiting the news. Take good care of yourself, Captain. To-morrow, Colonel; good evening to you, Monsieur Carewe;” and the terse old soldier proceeded to the door and held it open for the women.
“Good night, Messieurs,” said her Highness. “I shall not forget. Thanks to you, Captain.” One more glance, and she was gone. But this glance blossomed in one heart into a flower of hope.
The Marshal, having closed the door behind the women, returned to the group before the fireplace. They watched him interestedly.
“Colonel,” he said, “make no effort to seek Beauvais. As for Kopf, that is different. But Beauvais—”
“To let him go?” exclaimed the Colonel in dismay.
“Aye, to let him go. We do not seek bears with birdshot, and that is all we have. He will leave the country.”
“And go to the duchy!”
“So much the better; when the time comes, our case against him will be so much the stronger. Mind you, this is not from sentiment. I have none,” glaring around to see if any dared refute this assertion. “It is policy, and Monseigneur concurs with me.”
“But I have sent men after him!” cried the Colonel, in keen disappointment.
“Send men after them to rescind the order.”