"And I?—am I to be arrested?"
"Yes, madame. The lettre de cachet has been sent by Louvois to the king, and—" "And the king!" said Olympia, almost inaudibly.
"His majesty has signed it."
The countess pressed her hands upon her heart, and then, suddenly springing to her feet, she burst into a loud, frenzied laugh. "He has signed! He has signed!—And you—you—" muttered she, with a scowl at the duke, "did you offer to act as bailiff for the king?"
As though he would have confronted a world to shield her from harm, Eugene threw his arm around his mother's waist, and stood between the two.
"If such be your errand, Duke de Bouillon, you must first be the assassin of her son. No blow shall reach her, until it shall have pierced the heart of her only protector!"
"Not so grandiloquent, my little abbe," replied De Bouillon, superciliously. "Methinks, were I so disposed, I might snap the feeble thread of your existence, without any extraordinary display of valor, but I have no desire to deprive the countess of so valiant a knight. I come, not to arrest, hut to deliver her. I come to save herself from the headsman, her family from the foul blot of her public execution."
"Avenging God!" murmured the miserable woman.
"You must fly, Olympia," continued the duke, compassionating her fearful condition, "you must fly, and without delay."
"Fly!" exclaimed Eugene, furiously. "Because a degraded wretch like that La Voisin, in her delirium of agony, has spoken the name of the Countess de Soissons, she shall become a fugitive from justice? No, mother, no! Remain to confound your calumniators, and, with the good sword of Right, and Truth, pierce the vile falsehood to its heart's core!"