"No;" replied Louis, with a wan and wintery smile; "nothing that you would propose."
"Having met my novice at the Eleusinian mysteries," cried Wharton laughing, "I marvel I should seem to question his initiation!—The way is now plain before us.—Go with me to-night, when that blabbing duenna in the sky is gone to bed, and you shall have the whole policy of Austria in your bosom."
"Where?" said Louis, not understanding the Duke, and strangely doubtful of his manner.
"That disclosure is beyond my credentials. But when you are there, the awful secret of conspiracy will not be revealed in caverns, dungeons, and darkness. You will find a place to take the grateful soul, and lap it in Elysium!"
The pulse in Louis's temples beat hard; yet he was determined not to anticipate, but make Wharton explain himself.
"I do not understand you; who is it I am to see?"
"A woman; a lovely, fond woman!"
The manner of his saying this, was a stroke, like that of an iron rod on the heart of his friend; and he cast the hand from him, that clasped his arm.
"What, for another leap?" cried the Duke; "but you are out of practice, and may break more necks than your own!"
"And what is my resource?" desperately demanded Louis.