“Well,” returned the Duke, with utter callousness, “he was a knave, and deserved it. He was cheating, and I had him brought from Venice on purpose.”
Luc did not answer; he felt tired, disappointed, and downcast. His one desire was to get away from this house and from Avignon.
“I can make yesterday’s meeting fortunate for both of us,” continued the Duke. “I liked you from the first. I require another secretary——”
“I must refuse,” interrupted Luc. “I will take nothing, Monseigneur.”
M. de Richelieu looked at him narrowly.
“Where have you lived all your life?” he asked abruptly.
“In Aix and in camp,” replied Luc. His dreamy eyes brightened. “I have been ten years with the army.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Because my health broke,” said Luc briefly. “There were not many of us, Monsieur, who survived the retreat from Prague.”
“And now you wish to become a politician,” said M. de Richelieu. “I suppose you are an idealist?”