"He was more than rude; in presence of all his nobles he accused me of participation in Laura's murder, and banished me from court until I returned with proofs of my innocence."
"H'm—" muttered Barbesieur. "The affair looks ugly."
"Insulted before the whole court," murmured Louvois.
"Pshaw! Don't take it so much to heart. It is not your first affront. You know full well that if old women get the better of you to-day, you will outwit them to-morrow. Witness your feud of years with De Maintenon."
"I shall not outwit them this time, Barbesieur. The duchess has played her cards too dexterously for me to escape. Nor would the king befriend me; he is under too many obligations to me not to desire my humiliation and my ruin. Moreover, he is anxious to propitiate the Duke of Savoy, and will give him full satisfaction for the attempt on the life of his kinsman. I am lost—irretrievably lost!"
"Then so much the more imperative is it for us to lay the foundation of some new structure of fortune elsewhere.—Luckily, Laura's large estates in Italy are all-sufficient to make you a very rich man yet. So give me authority to act for you; I will go at once and take possession, while you arrange your affairs at home, and then follow me to Italy."
"He thinks of nothing but wealth," murmured Louvois; "he has no shame for loss of reputation or good name."
"Nonsense!" said Barbesieur, with a coarse laugh; "no man that has money loses reputation. Poverty is the only crime that the world cannot pardon, and you, thanks to the Marchioness Bonaletta, have just inherited a fortune."
Louvois shuddered. "A fortune through the murder of my child!"
"For which we are not accountable," said Barbesieur, carelessly. "We owe that obligation to Strozzi. and I must say it Was the only sensible thing I ever knew him to do."