"No!" interrupted Eugene, fiercely. "Say not that she is lost to me!
I must find her, for she is mine,—and I must find her ravisher.
Great God of heaven!" cried he, raising his clasped hands, "where
shall I find the robber that has so cruelly despoiled us both?"
"Stay!" cried the duchess. "I know of a man that was her suitor, and whose suit was countenanced by her father and her brother. She told me of it herself, and to avoid their persecutions, took refuge with me."
"His name, his name, I implore you, his name!"
"The Venetian ambassador, the Marquis de Strozzi."
"I thank your highness," replied Eugene, approaching the door.
"Whither do you go?"
"To seek the Venetian ambassador."
"And compromise Laura? You do not know that things transpired as you imagine. She may merely have been removed by her father, to part her from yourself. And suppose the marquis was no party to her flight? You would make her ridiculous—nay, more; you would sully her name, so that every gossip in Paris would fall upon your Laura's reputation, and leave not a shred of it wherewith to protect her from the world's contempt."
Eugene wiped off the great drops of sweat that beaded his pallid brow. "You are right," said he. "She must not be compromised—no, not even if I died of grief for her loss: there are other means—I will go to her father."
Elizabeth nodded her head approvingly. "Yes—that you can do. You may confide her secret to her father. Take the same carriage that brought you hither, and, to make sure of obtaining speedy admission to Louvois' presence, announce yourself as my envoy."