"What a curious predilection the marchioness has for this square!" he said to himself. "What a strange idea always to select it for her place of rendezvous! But I trust that this is the last one that she will give me here. She must consent to come to my petite maison. There we shall have no surprises to dread; there are secret exits which put one out of reach of any possible danger."
Having arrived at one of the arcades which surrounded the square, and being sheltered from the rain there, Léodgard let his cloak fall back, and raised his hat brim so that it covered his face less. Then, casting his eyes about the square, which was deserted, and at its dark arcades, he continued:
"The place is decidedly ill chosen for an amorous rendezvous. But Valentine will probably send her messenger, young Miretta—Miretta! yes, that is surely the name; and judging from what she told me, she is the person! What a strange meeting! If that girl suspected!—Ah! I must banish that ghastly memory!—How dismal this square is to-night! Really, this spot would be much better suited for a meeting between two gallant men armed with swords or daggers!—But is not this the place?—Yes, it was at the entrance to Rue des Tournelles, where one side of the park then came to an end—I have often been told the story—this is the very spot where Maugiron, Quélus, and Livarot fought at five o'clock in the morning, in April, 1578. Their adversaries were D'Entragues, Schomberg, and Ribérac. This square was not then laid out, and from the top of the towers of the Bastille one could watch the whole combat.—Ah! that triple duel was a glorious battle! Maugiron, Schomberg, and Ribérac lost their lives.—But that is the fitting death for a gentleman to die!—Those were the good times!—The king, far from forbidding duels, was foremost in encouraging them; whereas to-day the cardinal is terribly severe. The Bastille, aye, death sometimes, for those who fight, who disobey his edicts. And when he has said the word, Richelieu is inflexible! How he looked at me at that fête at the Prince de Valdimer's!—Was he thinking of my father, whom he esteems highly, they say? Or was it—— That look upset me completely. That man knows so many things!"
Léodgard let his head sink upon his breast, and stood lost in thought. In that condition, he saw nothing, heard nothing, and seemed entirely oblivious to everything that was taking place about him. So it was that he did not notice an individual, quite tall, wrapped in his cloak, and followed by a servant bearing a lantern, who entered the arcade in which he was waiting, and walked toward him. The new-comer passed close to Léodgard, who did not emerge from his reverie or lift his head. Thereupon, at a sign from his master, the servant who carried the lantern held it so near to the count's face that the light fell upon it.
"What are you doing here, knave?" cried Léodgard, instantly raising his head. "Why do you stop so near me with your lantern? Did I ask you for a light?"
"Excuse him, monsieur; it was at my command that he acted as he did. As I passed you, I thought that I recognized you; but it is so dark under these arcades that I was not certain, and, as I desired to assure myself that I was not mistaken, I motioned to my servant to throw the light on your face for a moment. So you see, he is not the culprit."
Léodgard's features contracted into a scowl; he had recognized the Marquis de Santoval in the person who addressed him. He divined instantly that the encounter was not simply the result of chance; however, he determined to pretend to assume at first that it was so, and he replied nonchalantly:
"It is Monsieur le Marquis de Santoval, I think.—I am overjoyed at the chance which affords me the pleasure of offering you my most sincere respects."
The marquis made a sign to his valet, who withdrew ten or twelve paces, so that he could not overhear what was said. When the servant was out of hearing, Monsieur de Santoval planted himself haughtily in front of Léodgard, and said in a bantering tone:
"The weather is very bad for an open-air rendezvous, is it not, monsieur le comte?"