“The letter will, I think, remove her objections,” the cardinal replied; “if not, it is for you to find means to induce her to go of her own will. Otherwise,” he added dryly, “I must find some one who has not your scruples.”
Péron bowed gravely. “I will do my best to execute your orders, monsignor,” he said.
“You have the purse and the letter,” continued the cardinal, “that is all then; I trust that you will successfully fulfil your commission.”
Péron had almost reached the door, when monsignor recalled him.
“Sieur de Calvisson,” he said, “is it your wish to present a petition to his Majesty for the restoration of your estates and title, in view of the recent revelations?”
“No, monsignor,” Péron replied; “for the present I am content to bear my father’s name without making any effort to obtain his estates. I would not be known as a claimant to the title of Nançay.”
Richelieu gave him a searching look.
“This is strange,” he remarked. “Yesterday you were justly incensed against the marquis; to-day you have on a coat of another color.”
The musketeer flushed. “My lord cardinal,” he said, “the sudden change would entail much misery for others,—chiefly for the innocent,—and I, who have been a musketeer so long, am content to wait awhile longer until I see my way more plainly, though I am deeply grateful for the interest your eminence has shown in my affairs.”
“Ah, I see,” said the cardinal, “the house on the Rue St. Thomas du Louvre has a witchcraft of its own. Beware, M. de Calvisson, that you do not fail in your duty for the sake of a fair face.”