"Same," answered Michael. "And an agent from Republic France to stir up sedition in Royalist England, so that her hands being full, she will have neither time nor power to put straight or avenge the wrongs of French aristocrats."
"A—ah!"
"Morry! Morry!" moaned Gabrielle, her white hands knotted in agony.
Then slowly the girl's bowed head was raised. Erect she faced the two men opposite.
"The Marquis de Varenac rides home," said she. "Then his sister will join him. If I cannot persuade him ... and he listens sometimes when he has not been drinking or gambling heavily ... then I myself will speak to the men of Varenac. Yes, I think I know how to speak and make them listen."
"You, Mademoiselle?"
De Quernais had taken a step forward.
She faced him, pitying, reassuring, perfectly confident.
"Yes, I," she replied—"Mademoiselle de Varenac. You will see they will listen to me as well as to Morice, and if the worst came, and they made mock of a woman's command, I would don man's dress and proclaim myself the Marquis."
Wild words, but daring spirit.