It was after leaving him that I entered Madame de Brousson’s closet and found her with a letter in her hands.
“Here is another one of Catherine’s billets,” she said scornfully; “but this one, I am certain, has been tampered with. Look at the seal—look at the manner in which it is folded;” and she handed it to me with a gesture of disdain.
Half amused, I took it and, holding it to the light, was at once convinced that her keen eyes had discovered the truth. There was every indication that the missive had been opened and re-sealed by some one who scarcely cared to take the pains to conceal the work. Zénaïde, seeing my face grow grave, came and stood by me, looking at the paper.
“It is true,” I remarked; “some one has tampered with it.”
“And who?” she said softly.
I shrugged my shoulders. “You have over-reached me there, madame,” I replied; “I am no reader of riddles. But let us see what the fair Catherine has to write to me in this careless way. Madame Golovin should be wiser than to be her scribe; but when will women learn to keep their pens from paper?” I unfolded it as I spoke, and together we read a long note from Mademoiselle Shavronsky, full of too plain references, hinting at a dozen ways of securing mademoiselle before the czar should announce his choice or make any open sign in her favor,—a mischievous note to fall into the wrong hands; referring to Najine’s illness and to M. de Lambert’s wound and calling men by their names. I read it through without a comment, and then Madame de Brousson and I looked at each other.
“The woman is a fool, and Madame Golovin another,” I exclaimed impatiently; “what would she have been in the hands of Madame de Montespan?”
“Ah, well, we cannot look for a Madame de Maintenon every day,” Zénaïde replied, shaking her head; “yet she risks not only herself, but all this is dangerous to you. You must put an end to it, Philippe.”
“An end to it!” I exclaimed; “you are a woman, and yet fancy that I can control another woman—and one like Catherine Shavronsky. You rave, madame; I am no magician.”
“Appeal to Mentchikof,” Zénaïde suggested.