"I can see no reason for such ridiculous procedure. Perfide Anglais is only a Boulevard cry when there is no domestic sensation to occupy the green hour."
"Tush!" Monsieur Roché impatiently interrupted. Ma foi, how impatient these diplomats are! "France was in active negotiation with England, and also with Italy, upon the same point. What it was matters nothing."
"You are reticent, monsieur."
"It is sufficient that it discloses that England was not wholly in our thoughts. Now, by an unpardonable blunder, Sir Edward received among his own certain other papers intended for Signor Faliero."
"France was playing a difficult game, monsieur."
"A delicate and diplomatic one, madame."
"And has failed."
"Been tricked," he hotly retorted. "The superscription upon the cover was plainly to the Italian Ambassador, and Sir Edward knew that even English diplomacy or intrigue could not be stretched to the fine point of not at once returning the packet. He knew that we should immediately demand it, if necessary, and that restitution could not be withheld. The documents were handed to Sir Edward himself by one of my secretaries, who is now open to accept a fresh appointment, and a couple of hours later, when the error was discovered, I was met with this melodramatic fable of abduction."
"But what is to be gained by such a fabrication? Surely Sir Edward could say he had gone to England, if he wished to."
"What is gained," Monsieur Roché answered, incisively, "is a strong hold upon us, we never knowing whether the papers have been inspected or not. When he returns he will, no doubt, send the packet to me, apparently untouched, and we can only assume that England is cognizant of its contents. We shall be compelled to maintain the negotiations now in progress, and all the time Sir Edward Rivington will smile, and placidly await a coup d'état. It is maddening, simply maddening. Mon Dieu! it binds us hand and foot."