M. de Richelieu told him with an almost crude brevity. He was to go to the Austrian Court and proclaim himself neglected by his country; he was to offer to serve Maria, the unfortunate Empress-Queen; he was to creep into her confidences, and forward them to the French Ministers. “Madame la Comtesse is going to Austria,” finished the Duke; “you would work in collusion.”
An extraordinary calmness came over Luc. He slightly moved his attitude against the shutter.
“In what capacity, Madame, are you going to the Court of Austria?” he asked.
She made no answer.
The Duke looked steadily at Luc.
“You refuse, of course?” he said.
The Marquis smiled.
“I thank you, Monsieur, for the compliment. Your position is awkward—and I am grateful for your courtesy.” He pressed his handkerchief to his pale but firm lips.
The Duke gave a little bow.
“You did not understand?”