“The king’s!”
“And then—?”
“And then I have heard it whispered that the baron de Beaulieu has asked her hand of the sieur d’Argenson.”
“The baron de Beaulieu! and who the devil is the baron de Beaulieu, that the sieur d’Argenson should doubt for the nine hundredth part of a minute between him and the viscount de Douarnenez for the husband of his daughter?”
“The baron de Beaulieu, count, is the very particular friend, the right-hand man, and most private minister, of his most Christian majesty King Louis XV.”
“Ha! is it possible? Do you mean that—”
“I mean even that—if, by that, you mean all that is most infamous and loathsome on the part of Beaulieu, all that is most licentious on the part of the king. I believe—nay, I am well-nigh sure—that there is such a scheme of villany on foot against that sweet, unhappy child; and therefore would I pause ere I urged too far my child’s love toward her, lest it prove most unhappy and disastrous.”
“And do you think D’Argenson capable—” exclaimed her husband—
“Of anything,” she answered, interrupting him, “of anything that may serve his avarice or his ambition.”
“Ah! it may be so. I will look to it, Marie; I will look to it narrowly. But I fear that, if it be as you fancy, it is too late already; that our boy’s heart is devoted to her entirely; that any break now, in one word, would be a heart-break!”